Dead Like Me Rebooted 2013
by Danioton
Summary: Almost 10 years after Reggie saw George at her grave, George's past interference with her family comes back to haunt her. This is a novel in 88 chapters. It opens with George preparing for Reggie's funeral in 2113. It moves to Rube's arrival in Seattle in 1927 before picking up events in 2013 when George and Daisy have a collision with a Seattle police detective at the hospital.
1. Chapter 1 Beginning at the End

**1 The Beginning at the End**

Seattle, Washington

Ferguson Mansion

Morning

October

2113

George picked up her hat from her bed and walked to the full-length closet mirror. She placed it on her head with the veil up and scrutinized the face looking back from underneath. She hadn't aged a day since she died. She still looked fresh - like she was just out of high school - except - yes, it was the eyes that gave her away. They were windows into the soul, or so they say, and her eyes were not those of a girl just heading off to college. They were big and brown and much more. She remembered Delores and smiled. She tried a perky smile and tilted her head and pointed at her big brown eyes. The perky smile did make her look younger but she decided that wouldn't be appropriate today. She would have to go as is. Fortunately the veil would obscure her face - and her soul.

This would be the last such funeral for her. There was no one left who knew her when she was alive. This was the end of something important, a milestone in her undead sojourn through the world of the living, and she struggled to get her mind to focus on it, to mark it with a worthy thought. She could feel the weight pressing down demanding some pithy substantive words to capture and hold onto, but all she had was the raw weight of that feeling.

A disembodied voice said, "George, the car is pulling up front now and Ms. Hesburgh and Mr. Ferguson are ready at the top of the stairs."

She looked up and to the side. "Thanks, Mabel. Please let them know I'll be there in a minute." She returned to her reflection in the mirror. "Could you show me a face view of my head next to my image in the mirror, and then a full body front and back?"

"Of course."

An image of George's face appeared next to her image in the mirror but this one showed a slightly longer proportioned face, a touch blonder hair, and deep blue eyes. The full length showed nothing amiss. She looked herself over one last time and satisfied, dropped the veil.

"OK, Mabel. I'm ready."

She took one more look around her bedroom and walked out into the hall. Charlotte and Tommy smiled. George stopped to look each over in turn before allowing them out in public. "Charlotte, you look wonderful."

"I look old."

"Not a day over 60. Tommy, hold on a sec." She took the knot of his tie in both hands to get some of the slack out. "Let me just fix this tie a bit here. There. Perfect. Everybody ready?"

George nodded to Charlotte who, as the eldest living family member, took the lead with Tommy one step behind and to her side.

George said, "Mabel, could you ask Mr. Gonzalez to join us in the car?"

"He will be there, Ms. McGillicuddy."

"Thank you Mabel."

From the top of the stairs George could see several more senior family members of the follow on generations gathered waiting for them. None of these people had yet reached a hundred years and most were no older than their eighties. A very few were younger, but none approached her own appearance. The trio stood and looked down on the solemn group. Most of the family were either outside or already at the cemetery waiting to pay their respects.

Charlotte took the lead descending the staircase holding onto the banister looking down at her feet putting her full weight on each step before moving to the next. Charlotte and Tommy acknowledged this one and that one with a mumbled greeting exchanged with a well-worn phrase of condolence. Several looked her way. No one questioned why she was with the two reigning senior family members, but she knew they were wondering why she was there occupying such a position at this time. Usually she kept out of sight. But today she would make an exception and allow them to see her and wonder.

At the bottom the way was clear through to the front door. And on the other side their car door was open. Ray stood at the open door waiting for them.

Outside the usual Seattle autumn sky was overcast. Maybe the sun would show itself later this afternoon. What an appropriate time of the year for this particular funeral.

They entered the car one by one with George followed by Ray. The door closed signaling it was time for the remaining family members to head to the cemetery.

In the car George looked Charlotte and Tommy over again. She fiddled more with Tommy's tie and adjusted the lay of his suit collar before taking Charlotte's hand and settling down for the ride.

Ray said, "George, a Detective Proxfire, I believe he is your…Millie's cousin, will be at the funeral and he has indicated that this morning he will approach you requesting a meeting at the house later this afternoon."

Tommy's face showed confusion. "Ray, who is he again? I mean family wise."

"He's your great grandson, Tommy."

"Have I met him? There are so many. I have trouble keeping track of them all."

Charlotte answered for Ray. "Of course you've met him, Tommy. He's a detective with the Seattle police. A very nice young man."

"Seems like an awful lot of them are with the police."

"It's OK, Tommy. He wants to talk to me. All of his questions will be directed at me, Millie McGillicuddy, his distant cousin. Ray, I don't want to accept his approach until after the ceremony is complete."

"I'll take care of him, George."

John Proxfire, as befitting one of the younger family members, stood well back from the gravesite. He carried his umbrella in his coat pocket just in case. He hated getting wet and then having to stand outside through a funeral, even for family – even someone so important as this family member.

He had gotten here early to walk around and look over the old family tombstones. Reggie, the matriarch of the greater clan, was to be buried close to her immediate family including her husband, but also her mother, father, and sister, and a few children who preceded her. He stopped in front of the sister's tombstone – the oldest stone of the three by many years. But...if what he read in the old journal were true... He wondered what was really inside this grave.

He had met Reggie only a few times but never really any solid talk beyond the formal family pleasantries. She lived in the original Ferguson house and he was a few too many steps down the family tree to have ever gotten close. Or maybe by the time he showed up she was just getting a bit too old with too many generations of grand kids to keep track of them all.

While she couldn't be called a recluse, the last few decades she tended to stay within a tight circle, or so he'd heard. She had her secrets. What family didn't? That was something he learned as a detective a long time ago. But as he had come to learn in the past few weeks she was taking some big secrets to the grave or at least as far as most of the family knew. Secrets he couldn't get his mind around and didn't know what to do with, which is why he planned to confront directly the odd young woman also now living in the old Ferguson mansion.

That odd young woman now sitting so prominently in the front of the casket was looking neither left or right. This Millie McGillicuddy - the name she claimed - who seemed to have no public records, the lost child who recently returned from one of those remote countries with stan at the end of the name. He remembered Tajikistan, but the point was that it was one of the few remaining territories with limited penetration by AI's and very poor public monitoring of its people. Supposedly her mother died – no body was returned to Seattle – and the poor girl, never seen by any Seattle family member, as she was born over there – returned a few years ago to take up residence in the old Ferguson place with Reggie, Ms. Hesburgh, and Mr. Ferguson.

He tried to approach her before she took her seat and the funeral services got underway but that Gonzalez character backed up by two or three others always nearby moved to stand in the way, looked him directly in the eye, and shook his head. Ray Gonzalez was a big man. He guessed 250 lbs, young and intimidating. From what he could learn he was completely devoted to Mr. Ferguson and to the household. What little he had observed he also, oddly, took orders from the young girl. She wasn't obvious about it and seemed to try to obscure matters. Anyway, John got the message. Gonzalez looked like he had seen military – real military action, but he could find no official record of military service. Normal police override access requests came up with nothing of significance. The police AI's were cooperative, but insisted that there was nothing to be gotten. Very odd that was. As the ease of monitoring the public had grown, greater protections had also evolved to keep pace, but still people could keep few secrets. But, without some tangible evidence of a crime he could not invoke higher-level information access, and he had nothing he was willing to bring up with anyone officially. He certainly couldn't bring up the journal.

Now that he looked he noticed that those others - they weren't family - were more than two or three. He looked around with a fresh mental filter triggered by something he read from that hundred year old journal. He could see now that there were several people positioned at key spots around the graveyard. He had the creepy crawlies run up and down his backbone. He looked around. They carried no weapons. But they acted like bodyguards. And now that he looked closely that's exactly what they must be, but protecting whom from what, and in a graveyard, in Seattle? He felt safe enough to come here without his own police mobile units. Aside from the Ray Gonzalez man none of these people looked like they could be of any use...but then he supposed that depends what form the threat might take. His train of thoughts was broken. One of those people was standing nearby and watching him, a very young woman projecting an aristocratic air. He looked back. She did not look away. He knew that he carried his profession with him on and off duty and that the average person was intimidated by the focused attention of someone like him. That had been the way of the world since civilization began. He could read people at a glance, and even more unsettling for most people, he had access to information such that most were careful not to attract his attention. Most people, however, did not include this young woman. She not only held his gaze, but he had the unsettling feeling, growing now, that she could read him, that she could see into his soul. She might be, could she be one of...? No. He had to keep hold of the real world not that fantasy world his grandfather had concocted, because that is exactly what it must be. His mind - fed that fantasy - could start seeing things, drawing nonexistent lines between facts taken out of context. He pulled his attention away from her and back to the odd young woman sitting so prominently with the heads of the clan.

He watched her. She looked neither one way nor the other, but remained focused straight ahead. He studied the other family members. Most of these were much older than himself. He wondered now how it was that she was able to secure such a coveted spot that signaled such importance. Their family was rich and powerful and prerogatives were guarded. Follow the money and in this family there was a lot of money to be followed. So he felt that it was odd no one seemed to give the young woman much notice. Really strange given where she was sitting and the position within the larger family that implied.

As the young woman walked away from the gravesite and towards the car, he decided it was time. He noticed that as he approached the three, that Gonzalez and a few of those others, including that young woman of aristocratic airs, discreetly formed a tight circle. When he got close enough and caught her attention he said, "Ms. McGillicuddy, I am so sorry for the loss of your…?"

"Thank you, John. You can call me Millie. Our loss. And someone very close to me. You wanted to come to the house for a talk."

"Yes, if it wouldn't be too much trouble." She deftly avoided his open ended attempt to get her to offer some explanation of her relationship, her real relationship, with occupant of the casket.

The always affable Ms. Hesburgh drew his attention. "John, it's good to see you again."

He turned to Ms. Hesburgh, who projected sincere pleasure at seeing him. He knew she liked all of her kids and enjoyed tracking each step of their lives. "Hello, Grandmother Hesburgh. You are looking well."

"Oh, at my age, I've got one foot in the grave. My schedule is all done in pencil."

"I'm sure that's a long ways off."

Mr. Ferguson was a bit annoyed. "So what is it you want to talk about, young man, that you have to do it on today...of all days?"

The young girl guided things back to a more pleasant track. "Mr. Ferguson, it's OK. John is welcome. I'd love to hear what he has to say. How about this afternoon at say 4:30, John?"

Mr. Ferguson, he noticed immediately was curiously deferential to this young woman. Mr. Ferguson was deferential to very few people, at least that was his reputation, and probably you could count the number on no more than two hands. He tolerated as equal not many more. And yet his body language and mannerisms radiated strongly that he consciously and perhaps unconsciously saw himself as subordinate to this young woman. John was intrigued. This was a fascinating puzzle he desperately wanted to solve.

Mr. Ferguson turned to this Millie and asked, "Are we welcome?"

John looked over at Ms. McGillicuddy, not wanting to step into the path of Mr. Ferguson's low threshold for irritation. She said to Mr. Ferguson, "I'm looking forward to you joining our conversation." And then to him politely and firmly, "Good day, John."

With that the young woman turned and he noticed led the way back to the car. He stood and watched them go. He took note of the fact that when they had arrived, it was Ms. Hesburgh and then Mr. Ferguson, who led the way, and the young girl followed. But now, he suspected unconsciously, it was the young girl who led the way back to the car. And his long experience screamed out to him that the guards were keyed in on her, she was the center. He watched. When they reached the car, the young girl put on again that faux deference allowing the two seniors to enter first. Then she got in and that Gonzalez entered last.

The extended family, the clan really, was big and powerful and wealthy. Most of the money and power was concentrated at the top, certainly not with him. He was comfortable and able to pursue his career within the police force as he wished. It's what attracted him. He was not attracted to the business side of the world. He liked puzzles and people and their crimes were always the most fascinating puzzles that needed solving. People still found ways to commit crime and there was still a need for people who could solve those crimes. When he was young he had heard the stories, myths he had considered them, about odd happenings within the family. Most of the stories were just that stories he believed. And most of his generation did not take them seriously. But...the journal that had been placed into his possession had added texture to some of those stories, and piqued his interest. And forced him to consider the crazy notion, what if there were some core of truth to them? What then?


	2. Chapter 2 Seamore Greets at Train Statio

**2 Seamore Greets at the Train Station**

State of Washington

On a Train

Afternoon

October

1927

Rube watched the telephone poles roll by. Penny was asleep sitting across from him. Marsha had just awakened but showed no sign of wanting to talk. She usually didn't. They had been more than three days on trains traveling from the East Coast on their way to Seattle. He had never been to Seattle, or most anywhere outside of the New York-New Jersey area where he grew up and lived, and then died. He had never died before either. He still had trouble with that grim piece of reality. Only a few weeks before, he had died. It was not a good death. To the extent he had ever thought about it, he really wanted to go with more dignity, but it caught him unawares and unprepared. And it was his own fault. And well, it happened and he was surprised to die and be met by a grim reaper. Then he was told his soul was to be held over. They took his ghost to his own funeral. The hardest part at his funeral was seeing his wife and his little girl, but unable to do or say anything. He did overhear that right after his body was in the ground they would be moving to Seattle. Out of the blue his cousin Ruth Meyer, now widowed and without children of her own, offered to take in his wife and daughter. Then, later, out of the blue he was made aware that he would be a grim reaper in Seattle. The reapers handling him, moving him along, didn't ask and he didn't tell them that his wife and daughter were there. If God, or Death, or whatever higher power wanted his opinion, then they could ask. So far no one had asked, so here he was, on a train approaching Seattle, where his wife and daughter would also be...residing somewhere. From what he had seen choice for reapers was not a high priority. They would tell him what they thought he needed to know when they thought he needed to know it. The thought rolled through his brain and not for the first time that this new existence might be some sort of punishment. He expected much worse as he lay dying. He deserved much worse for what he had done. He would do in death what he had always done in life, he would make the best with what came his way. That was the way of the world in life and now he had learned in death. So be it.

Charles Seamore and Tom stood on a King Street Station platform in an off and on again light drizzle along with scores of other people waiting on the arrival of the northbound noon train. There were several reapers on the train traveling as a group. Seamore would greet his three new reapers, transferees from the New York area.

The weather had been a bit warmer than usual for October. Seamore hoped the warm weather would hold up and that maybe the clouds would hold their rain back a bit longer. He carried his one umbrella but his new charges probably wouldn't have their own yet. They all had to walk back to his house. Arriving drenched through was not how he wanted them to remember their first day under his care.

Seamore's reaper gang had been working shorthanded for several weeks. Seattle was growing. More people meant more dying and more souls to collect. His team took care of accidents, murders, and suicides, and even though times were peaceful and the population leaned towards the younger side they were busy.

The train pulled in and started to slow down.

"How many you got on your list there, Tom?"

"Just three. None are keepers. Just moving them on to local destinations. Give each some money and instructions, and maybe walk them a bit of the way. You?"

"I've got three I'll be keeping."

"How do they sound?"

"Well, Tom, I've got one woman, Penny, who's been a reaper some 15 years. I think she's the guide for the group to get here. She died in that big ocean liner disaster back in 1912."

"Just transferring? No trouble back east?"

The trained lurched to a stop, and the doors opened. Some of those on the platform moved forward crowding in each other's way looking towards those stepping down at each car's door. Seamore and Tom were content to wait off to the side for people to clear on their own.

"No trouble. Just moving out here. She should have some good stories about that one. Haven't talked to a reaper who died in a shipwreck. And then I've got another younger woman named Marsha, who just died back in New York right after giving birth to her first."

"Oh, Seamore, she could have some state of mind, that one. Baby lived?"

"Yeah, Tom, but I figure with the distance and some time she'll forget about the baby. Anyway, maybe thinking about that will take her mind off her own end."

They could see a group of six people saying some friendly goodbyes. The group broke into two and looked out and around. Seamore and Tom raised their arms to get their attention.

And, my third I'm a bit concerned about."

Tom looked his way.

"Well, he's older and got involved in robbing a bank. Got himself killed when all was said and done."

"That's strange. Odd choice for a reaper."

"Yeah. That's not the half of it. His widowed wife and young child moved out here just ahead of his coming."

"That's asking for trouble. Never heard of that, shifting a reaper someplace near living family. Never. What's the point of moving us around? Don't envy you one bit. Dangerous for both him and them. Doesn't sound like he'll last long, does it now?"

"And I don't know if he knows they're here."

"If ya ask me, Seamore, ya need to tell him straight up front what happens if he doesn't measure up from the start."

Seamore could see his three – an older man and woman standing together with a very prim straight-backed young woman. Each carried a small case. There would be no luggage. The newly dead tended to travel light. They had been travelling for a few days and he wanted to get them to the house. And they still had a bit of walk.

Tom waved as he left with his three. And Seamore offered his hand to the approaching man.

"Rube Sofer? I'm Charles Seamore. Glad to meet you."

"Mr. Seamore. Glad to make your acquaintance."

"Just Charles is good, Rube."

Seamore smiled toward the two ladies. "And you would be Penny? And Marsha?"

Penny nodded. Marsha looked affronted. Seamore, startled by her stern face, was taken up short.

"Mr. Seamore. You may address me as 'Miss Morgan'. Are you the driver? Please take my bag and let's be on our way. I was promised that we would have suitable accommodations after what has been a horrid trip."

Rube leaned towards Marsha, something Seamore noticed Marsha just tolerated no doubt after several days of practice.

"Marsha, Mr. Seamore, is our new boss. We will be working for him." Rube emphasized the words 'boss' and then 'for'.

"Rube, I am a Morgan. I don't work for anyone, least of all I do not work for a Negro."

Seamore straightened himself up. Some people didn't make the transition from life to death to becoming a reaper without a few bumps and adjustments. Marsha he could tell was going to have a bone jarring transition. She, it was obvious now, was from a very wealthy family, a very Anglo-Saxon family. Why were these important little pieces of information left out? It was not the first time the thought occurred to him in his some 65 years as a reaper that Death had an overly ripe sense of humor. With all the patience someone of his experience could muster he focused his reply for Marsha. "Well, Miss Morgan, or Marsha. No, I am not the driver. We do not have a driver as we do not have an automobile. We will be walking and you will be carrying your own bag. And you will be working for me. Your new accommodations, temporary accommodations, are a mile or two towards the city center."

Seamore turned on a smile for Penny. "Penny, so glad to meet you."

And then he said to the three, "I'm sure you're all tired. The sooner we get to walking the sooner you'll get some supper and to bed. You need to meet the rest of our family. We have a lot of work to get you all used to your new calling as Seattle reapers."

Seamore led the way out of the station and onto the street. As they settled into their walking pace he could overhear Rube trying to smooth the ruffled feathers of the unhappy former member of New York high society. Penny walked next to him and his glance gave her the OK to speak what was on her mind.

"Charles, I don't believe she fully appreciates that she's dead. At times on the trip out here she said things, off things. She refused to believe that the body she saw was hers, that the funeral she attended was hers."

Seamore knew this kind of doubt needed to be taken care of right at the beginning. That this young woman's situation was left unresolved was a serious mistake made by the New York reapers who transitioned the young lady through her death and introduction to her new vocation. Though now that he had met her he suspected they did their best. Hard to get a good fire going with wet wood and this one was very wet.

After way too much belly aching he once forced a new reaper to dig up his own grave and look upon his own badly decomposed body to get it through his skull he was dead dead and it was over. The next week when the fool's doubts bubbled up again over dinner, something Seamore could not abide, he did not argue, did not say a word. He finished dinner and invited the man into the backyard and brought along his shotgun. There he gave the unsuspecting man both barrels in the belly. Seamore knew it hurt every bit as much as it would someone alive, maybe more cause he couldn't actually die. After the man quit whimpering and crying and finally ghosted himself he never again expressed doubt, at least not to Seamore, about the fact of his own death. The man was soon transferred taking with him, Seamore hoped, a much improved attitude regarding proper topics for dinner.

Anyway. He would really hate to use the shotgun, as persuasive as it was, on such a proper young lady. It would ruin a set of her clothes, and he was a Southern gentleman, whose upbringing did not include shooting young ladies, even if, in this case, she was dead already. With some attitude adjustment she could ease access in certain circles in Seattle society. Even the rich have accidents, get murdered, and on occasion commit suicide. A little patience was perhaps in order. If that didn't work, well, then there was always the shotgun.

They soon arrived at his street where he had chosen to build his boarding house. The group walked pass a few new shops. The shops were growing in number. It was hard to guess how these things would go. The street was likely to become heavily commercial Seamore knew now, but he couldn't have known that when he picked the site for his house several decades before. He never cared much for the unsettled existence of many reapers, and after he found little Pauline, and decided to raise her himself, he also decided to build something suitable. Seamore was proud of the old clapboard house, and even though it and the yard were maintained well and kept clean, it was not ostentatious nor did it attract attention. That was as it should be. He had the foresight to obtain a triple lot not long after the land along this street was offered for sale. The house itself was bigger then any of the neighbors, so he told people it was a boarding house to explain why there were several people and some turnover of residents. He looked it over and they walked closer. It could use a new roof. This one was prone to leaks, something not good in Seattle, and Pauline was not happy about that.

"OK, this is home. Pauline, my daughter, my adopted daughter, is alive, and you will report to her for your share of household chores." Anticipating trouble, Seamore looked directly at Marsha, or Miss Morgan. "And if that's not acceptable to anyone, you are free to live elsewhere, just so you report here daily for your reaps."

Marsha looked as tired as any of them, and in any case, seemed to put a higher priority on food and a dry place to stay than her family dignity, for now at least.


	3. Chapter 3 Seamore's Fireplace

**3 Seamore's Fireplace**

Seamore operated his boarding house near central Seattle, but rarely actually hosted living boarders. The occupants were mostly reapers residing permanently and on occasion reapers resting on their way to other destinations. Some of Seamore's reaper group lived nearby but most found it convenient to stay in his house.

Penny and Marsha or at least Penny helped prepare dinner. The cooking operation and the household chores overall were supervised by Pauline Webster, an old Chinese woman. Marsha as it turned out couldn't peel potatoes well, but did handle the mashing part. Marsha was easily frustrated and her inability to do the simplest of tasks drew scowls from Pauline. Marsha more often peeled her own skin and bled a lot. Marsha slowed things down, but the extended reaper family settled down to their supper on time. Rube watched as reapers came down the stairs and entered through the front door. He was pleased that they did in fact seem like a family. There was a lot of good-natured joshing and Pauline seemed the center of affection even as she ordered this or that be done. She ran the household. Rube's time as a reaper was limited but this was his first experience with one of the living knowingly working among the reapers. The table was large and after they had gathered around Seamore led introductions all around. The evening meal was this reaper group's daily social event and most seemed to show up. Word likely had gotten around that there would be new members coming today. The conversation was pleasant. Marsha even smiled once or twice. Most of the men and a few women smoked and a thick layer built up over their heads. Pauline brought out the dessert, blueberry and apple pies, and most ate heartily. Rube learned that one benefit of being dead, or more properly undead, was they could eat all they wanted, or they didn't have to eat at all, if they could tolerate the discomfort. Rube felt hope. He had half suspected that this after death experience was some gateway to Hell, but maybe it wasn't.

After dinner the various reapers went their own ways. Rube noticed a few men came to confer with Seamore and left again.

Rube wasn't sure what to do with himself. He, Penny, and Marsha stayed at the table sipping coffee and talking among themselves until Seamore invited them to move over to a sitting room next to the dining room. Seamore lit a small lantern to remove some of the shadows. The only other light came from the large stone fireplace that took up most of one wall. The layer of smoke had broken up with all the people moving through it. Seamore added some wood to the fireplace and stoked the flames to get it going good. Seamore mentioned in passing that he set the stones and then covered the top and sides from locally cut wood he carpentered and worked himself.

Two men appeared in the open walkway leading to the main front door foyer. Seamore excused himself and walked over to stand near the entryway. He whispered with the two reapers, a Tim and Jerry. Both men soon left and Seamore settled back into his well-worn rocking chair positioned close and to the right of the fire. He took out a pipe and tobacco and started to pack the bowl. There was still a scattered smoke layer from the cigarettes and cigars during dinner and after. Rube and Penny each lit their own cigarettes. To Seamore's left Penny had settled onto a wide couch directly in front of the fire, while Rube sat to Penny's left. Marsha sat in a chair of her own, back straight, eyes jumping from one object or wall picture to another around the room. She avoided eye contact. Both Rube and Penny were relaxed enjoying the warmth radiating from the fire. He was pretty sure that this was not Hell. He had expressed his doubts to Penny during the long train ride and she laughed. She was happy. But then she was the type to be happy most anywhere.

Seamore had gotten his pipe lit and he looked over at Penny as he pulled hard and blew out the first smoke. He said, "Penny, please be patient. Some of our talk will be old news to you. I'm sure in your years already as a reaper you've done a lot, but you can help our two new members to the calling get situated." He looked to Rube and Marsha in turn. "I hope you all liked the new outhouse. I built it myself. It's a two seater so there's no waiting anymore. And I think you'll find this house is one of the better places you could have ended up. I and a few others built most of it ourselves. Added to it over the years. For the time being this will be your home, so-"

"Mr. Seamore." Marsha said and then cleared her throat.

"Please Marsha. Call me Charles."

Marsha's lips tightened, but then she decided to fight a battle not yet lost in her mind. Rube thought she really did not fully appreciate her situation.

"I was told in New York that the accommodations here would include a room to myself, and -"

"Marsha, please, understand that your old life is behind you. You don't get your own room and you must learn to do your share of chores along with your reaping duties."

"I have half a mind to just take the next train back to my home in New York."

"If you do I guarantee you will never arrive."

"Am I being held against my will, sir?"

Seamore paused to pull on his pipe once, held it in, and let the smoke out slowly. He took another and let that go too as they all waited for his response.

Rube could see that Seamore did not like that kind of talk. "What I mean, Marsha. I will not, nor will any of my family here, hold you anywhere against your will. But, yes, you should understand that there is a higher power that stands behind my words. So, yes, you could interpret what I say as a threat. If you just took off. Especially if you just took off with the intent to return to your former life I assure you that you will never arrive and you will not like the destination that you do find. No you will not. There are boundaries, Marsha, and if you step outside them you will be dealt with by that higher power. That higher power has two faces." Seamore seemed strained by so much talking, so he paused to pull on his pipe again. Once the smoke billowed upward to join the layer of smoke reforming at just above their head level, he continued. "If you cooperate it will provide what you need. But if you choose badly, it can react in ways that are a fright to behold. It chose you and placed you here to do a necessary job. Fail it and it will not react kindly. No, not at all."

With so much talk Seamore noticed that his pipe had failed. Seamore lit up a match and put it to his pipe as he sucked loudly to get it going again. Once he was satisfied and let out his first smoke he felt ready to start the talk. The bad talk seemed over. Someone walked by on their way out the front door. His pipe smoke drifted up to help rebuild the disturbed layer just over their heads.

"OK, I think it would be a good idea if we moved forward on a few points. As we go you should ask questions. Penny may get assigned reaps soon, but I believe you, Rube, and you, Marsha, will have some time, a few days, to get acquainted with your new home here in central Seattle. During the day I'll assign each of you to another reaper for their collections, and on your own you should walk the city and learn how things are done, and especially the street layout. During the evening for the next several evenings, we'll get together and talk.

Let's introduce ourselves. Name, when and where you died, just to get started.

For my part I died back east in 1862 during the Civil War – a battlefield promotion. Bullet to the head."

Seamore looked to Penny.

"I died in 1912. In the middle of the ocean when the Titanic sunk. I still have nightmares of the cold. It was so cold."

Penny looked to Rube.

"I died in New Jersey this year. Ate some bad salmon. I can't look at the stuff anymore."

Rube in turn looked to Marsha, who seemed startled and hesitated.

"I...had a baby boy…his name was to be John. I remember that…and then I remember a fever, but I don't remember dying."

"Marsha, didn't you attend your funeral as a spirit, a ghost?"

Marsha again looked away and to the distance.

"I remember…I don't remember very well. Some man approached me and took me away and talked… But I'm not sure what happened. I don't feel like I'm dead, but just fine and alive. I just had dinner and I'm sitting here in front of a warm fire."

"Marsha. This is important." Rube could see concern growing on Seamore's face. He was learning what Penny and he had been dealing with on the long trip – that Marsha would at times be lucid and seem to understand her own end, but at other times her mind seemed fuzzy and she would talk as if they were just on a trip. Seamore looked into Marsha's eyes and said in a firm voice. "You died in childbirth. The funeral you attended was your own. You were brought here to your new home in Seattle to become a reaper. Didn't anyone explain any of this to you?"

Marsha's face took on a purpose and she turned to Seamore. "Yes, of course, as you say, I died, I'm dead. Please let's carry on."

"OK, fine." Seamore didn't look like everything was fine, but carrying on seemed a better path to follow than facing a reaper who didn't really understand that they had died. That could go from bad to worse real quick. Rube knew that they physically couldn't be broken, but mentally broken, how did that get fixed?

Penny broke in. "Marsha and I will talk some more. Sometimes this all takes some getting used to. She'll be just fine."

"OK, OK. Let's cover some ground." Now Seamore felt he was getting back onto a well-worn footpath, a dirt path worn deep with grass on either side so that the way forward was certain even on a dark night.

"OK, you have been chosen after your deaths to stay here among the living and help people who died cross over. A grim reaper is not just a ghost. You all died and were ghosts, but you were granted leave to regain the ability to walk among the living again. Ghosts cannot do that. You have been given certain powers over souls. These vary and grow with you as you gain experience. And most of us can move back and forth between this world and the other one, some better than others. All of us can see both sides.

"Your being chosen may not seem fair to you and I would think, Marsha, with you just having a baby and being so young, maybe you in particular feel unfairly put upon. But the fact of it all is you each have been handed this fate.

"We all, everything dies. Life and death have to balance. We…you do not choose the time and place of your own death nor will you have a say in the deaths of those you reap. I can guarantee that each of you early on – maybe your very first reap – will be tested with a tough to face death – a soul you must reap and send on its way that will shake you hard. You have to face it and get through it." Seamore looked to each lingering on Rube a bit, before shifting back to the fireplace and the light.

He sucked on his pipe before continuing. "We are reapers, we collect the souls and help them to cross over into the beyond. After you died and your bodies were put away, your ghost took on a physical form here among the living. We, however, are not one of the living. We occupy the in between with one foot in the world of the living and other in the world of spirits and ghosts. We can see both sides – the living and the ghosts.

"When you look into a mirror or we look at each other you are seeing that original you or ghost occupying the spirit world, but when one of the living looks at you they are seeing a different appearance that doesn't look at all like what you see in the mirror. It's a new you created just for them to see. If you walk up to your own mother, or your wife." Seamore looked directly at Rube. "She would not know you." He stopped. Rube guessed that this was a natural stopping point on the well-worn footpath. "Any questions?"

Rube glanced at each face in the glow of the light from the fireplace. They were all looking into the fire, but Rube could tell that both Marsha and Penny were listening closely to Seamore. He sure was. He suspected that Seamore knew what he was doing by bringing them all around this fire for this practiced talk of his. There was something calming about this age-old ritual of gathering around a fire together. Maybe it was easier to face fears and the unknown and certainly people who had just died needed a little support to get through the start of their new undead lives. It was a huge shock for Rube for sure. And he knew that Marsha was struggling hard with the transition.

Seamore said, "You people are special. You are reapers. You are not just some ghost wandering around, you'll see those sometimes. You are ghosts with a physical form here among the living and…this is important…you have been given great power over souls. You can grab hold of a living person's soul and move it as if it was a feather. Or a ghost running loose. We'll talk more about that later.

"But the important thing here is it's your job to get to each person before they die and reap their soul. A person's body and soul are cemented together like the stones in this fireplace. If they die like that the soul will go insane waiting for the body to rot away before it releases the soul. So. That means you will reap them – you will melt that cement away so when the person's body dies, their soul will leave their body and it will come to you. Then, you will help them find their gateway to the other side."

"Mr. Seamore, really, now. I haven't seen any ghosts and I certainly don't feel…like a ghost. Look I can touch this chair and it is solid." She thumped her hand twice on the arm of her chair.

"Well, Marsha, you probably have, but didn't recognize them. But also they know us and since they refused to cross over once already they stay far away from us. Last person they want to talk to is a reaper."

"I saw my own body, and funeral." Rube said to no one as he looked through the fire. "And, Marsha. We're ghosts of a kind…sitting here around a fire…ironic."

"Yes, we're ghosts, Rube, but of a very special kind. We're ghosts with a job – a purpose. You've been given this chance and a body to stay here among the living, but it's not free. You're on call at any time of the day or night to collect souls and deliver them to where they need to go. You will work this area centered around this house, and stay close by as the instructions come in."

Marsha sat level with Seamore, but to Rube somehow managed in the tone and inflection of her voice to project a feeling of looking down her nose at Seamore. "And who, Mr. Seamore, will be giving us these instructions?"

"When you need to know something or need something to accomplish your reap it will be provided. Usually, each of you will receive directly the knowledge of the who, when, and where you are to reap your target soul. At the same time you get this information so will I. You'll find that with experience and if you learn to listen to the instructions, you will be drawn to your reap. Once you've unlocked or released the soul you'll find upon death the soul will then be drawn to you as long as you're nearby."

"We have to touch them?" Marsha did not look happy at the prospect of touching members of the lower classes, Rube guessed.

"You have to reap them, Marsha, not always touch them. And with experience you'll be able to do it from farther away and without anyone seeing or noticing you."

That triggered a memory for Rube and he said, "I've noticed, on the trip out here, that people don't seem to see us very well."

"Exactly, Rube. Without us lifting a finger the living tend not to notice us. We are not meant to interact with them. We exist on the fringe. Be careful of relationships with the living. Anyway with practice you'll be able to push your noticeability down to not being there as far as the average living person is aware."

Rube and especially Marsha looked puzzled.

"Along with our different appearance to the living in this physical world, we also have a natural cloak around us that affects the living. Most of the living most of the time don't notice us, so when we do or say unusual things it either goes unnoticed or is soon forgotten. "

Rube asked, "What does that mean?"

"Well, Rube, you'll be able to walk up to a front door, knock, and when they answer step inside and they'll not notice your presence. You'll then reap your soon to die target and wait for fate to take it's course. However, machines are not affected, so don't get too clever and stand in front of a camera. You will show up unless you push yourself all the way into ghosting."

"Ghosting?"

"Penny? You can explain?"

"Rube, he means that with a little practice most of us can, for a time, return to a ghost state, walk through walls, and disappear completely."

Seamore lifted his arm to gather their common attention and moved it through the fireplace mantle stones to his right and held it there. Rube and Marsha's eyes rounded. Seamore followed this demonstration by slowly ghosting himself dropping out of the physical into the spirit world. They could still see him and he looked real enough, but Rube could sense he would not be visible to the living. Then he pushed it until he had become more a suggestion than visible even to them. Seamore popped back.

"And as far as ghosting, actually, pretty much all reapers can learn to do it, but not all can with the same ease. The older reapers can make themselves invisible to reapers and ghosts. Also it's true that some reapers when they ghost and come back feel sick or worse. Now all reapers heal quickly – you can't kill someone that's already dead, though you will feel all the pain. You also can't catch a disease. You don't have to worry about consumption, or the measles, typhoid, none of that concerns you any longer except." And it leaned forward to emphasize his point. "In so far as you have to hide that fact from the living. But when you start ghosting it will become pretty obvious pretty quickly whether you are one of the few reapers who can do it without after effects and feel nothing. After ghosting you might feel like you've got a bad hangover, or a bad bad flu, so most who get that way practice other approaches to their reaps. However, some reapers, and I'm one of those few, can ghost freely without any ill effects. But then…some of those few if they do it too much, don't come back."

Penny looked worried and asked, "Don't come back?"

"They find it harder and harder to take physical form again until one day they can't come back."

"And how do we know if that will happen to us?"

"You don't, Penny, not at first. Although once you start down that road you can feel it."

Marsha shifted one way in her chair and then back again. She looked up at the ceiling and then shook her head. She suddenly burst out, "This is all poppycock, and fairy story nonsense! I've never heard such silliness from grown men. That's some sort of magician's trick you did. It can't be real."

Rube broke his gaze from the fire and looked to his left at Marsha. "I'm afraid this is all too real."

Seamore said, "You all have it easy. I was made a reaper on a battlefield during the Civil War. I got shot in some initial skirmishing as a big battle was forming up. And my very first day I was given the job of reaping a Union general with one-week advance warning. Probably I got so much time because I was new, but I don't know. I had a helluva time."

Rube asked, "Couldn't you just ghost over and reap him?"

"Hell no. I was so new. I couldn't do nothing. And I was a Southern soldier…"

Rube was surprised and asked, "Charles. You were fighting for the South?"

"Yes. It was complicated. Anyway. The first time I tried getting close to that general Union soldiers grabbed me and strung me up as a spy or maybe just for fun. I had to leave my first body behind."

Rube asked, "What? You left the body behind?"

"I said you people these days have it pretty easy. You are not to ever talk about us or what we do to the living, nor are you ever to leave evidence for them to find. That means...sometimes...you have to leave a body behind. In cases where everything is too public – in front of too many people. You or your body dies, again, and you become a ghost, again, and then you get a new body not long after – a new identity – about three days after usually. It's called a resurrection reap and I don't know why I got one so quick. Penny you're old enough for one."

"Mr. Seamore, that sounds blasphemous." All three turned to face Marsha. She was clearly having trouble understanding recent events.

"Blasphemous or not, it's been called a resurrection reap for as long as I've been reaping. It just means you get a new body to continue working among the living – even as you leave the old one behind as something to show them. You can't get mortal wounds in front of the living and then just get up and walk away.

Anyway, what happened was I was so confused I wandered off and when I got my new body I went back to try again." Seamore was smiling at the memory, now. "Damn if I didn't get caught again. This time they put me in front of a firing squad."

Rube was smiling too. "Another resurrection reap?"

"No. This time the officer in charge and his two enlisted men dragging the bodies away recognized me for what I was. They was reapers, too. One of them whispered to me to play opossum and pulled my body out of sight into the woods. The officer then told me that a reaper he called the Shaman wanted to see me. I went with him a half a mile or so into the woods to this big hut built Indian style. On the way the officer explained that this place he was taking me to was where the oldest reapers were gathering for the battle. He told me the whole place and the reapers gathered around and in it were invisible to the living. It was in that other spirit world and he took me into it. He ghosted me.

"I saw little groups sitting around fires and standing in small groups. It was odd to see Union and Southern soldiers talking together like it was an outdoor barbecue picnic. A great many though were Indians, shamans, many looked to be. I was glad I didn't get one of those apparitions to meet me when I died.

"We walked through them towards the hut entrance. He warned me I was one of many that the Shaman would meet so don't dawdle. There were a lot of reapers being made and not enough time to train them. I was to answer any questions the Shaman might have and take my leave. He took me to the front and pointed the way inside. Anyway, I bent down to get into this hut. There was a fire and smoke going up through the hole in the roof, and there were a dozen people sitting around the walls facing the fire talking. The man sitting against the other side farthest from the opening called me by name as I stooped to go inside and invited me to come closer. I don't know how he knew my name, but, hell, a few days ago I didn't know about reapers, so anyway. He introduced himself as Henry. He was dressed in plain white man's everyday clothes – a cotton shirt, blue, and heavy work pants with old worn boots. He was solidly built and short hair cut like a white man, but his face looked like he was some sort of Indian just not like any I had ever seen. The hair was too light as were the eyes. Several around the fire were Indians for sure, but others were not. A woman sitting to his right scared the bejesus out of me to get so close."

Seamore stopped to adjust his pipe. Even Marsha stopped her fidgeting.

"This Shaman or Henry was as friendly as could be, but the woman had a cold look about her. I had to move close by between her and the fire to get to Henry. She was lean but solid built, heavier boned than your average woman. Her hair was long and white as snow, braided, and had small bones, teeth or claws – big ones - tied inside of many braids. She was the whitest white woman I'd ever laid eyes on, but she was dressed like an Indian, but that wasn't the scary part. Her eyes were snow white through and through except for the pupils. When she looked at me I felt her touch my soul. Anyway, Henry says to her to smile a bit, Ice. That was her name, Ice, but she didn't smile one bit.

"When I got close and knelt down in front of Henry he took my hands and I felt a tingle go through me. He said with the battle and all a lot of reapers were getting made on the spot he was sorry there wasn't time to do things proper, but he assured me that I could now enter the spirit world when I wanted to. It was something I had inside and he just brought it out. Behind me at the opening another man was already waiting and I could see my officer escort looking inside at me like we should be going. Henry said to me to go get the general now. He won't be no trouble. He won't see you coming. And I had no trouble. Though after he was dead he sure was surprised to have a Southerner for his reaper guide to the other side."

Rube's fixation on the fire was broken. "Did you see Henry or that woman again?"

"No. I never did, and I hope never to see either again. Or for that matter any of those around that fire. I asked the officer, but he just said he had become a reaper the month prior. He had heard that all those around that fire were very old reapers and he had been warned that it would be better to keep his nose to the grindstone and pay no mind to them. He told me to watch for them on the battlefield." Seamore took some time to work on his pipe.

Penny hadn't yet met a reaper as old as Seamore so this was all new to her. "Well, what happened?"

"All hell and blood happened. I had done the general – he got shot by a sniper early on, but I also got several more souls to take care of. When the real shooting got started I saw thousands of boys getting shot every which way. Thousands got shot. Some died right off. Many did not. I saw those old reapers standing off as first hundreds and then thousands of souls would appear near each of them. As dead started growing in numbers the reapers – those old reapers with their souls invisible to the living who were all too busy killing each other to notice ghosts anyway – started walking away from the field leading long lines of the dead behind them. I don't know where they went, or how they got them to go over, but I and other reapers busy with our own charges could see lights all around and in the distance. As darkness fell and more died from the fighting and their wounds for us reapers the darkness was like day for all the lights of the thousands who were passing over. Bigger and more lights than any fireworks you've ever seen. And it went on all night and into the day as more fighting started up and more dead piled up and souls passed through their lights."

They all looked into the fire. Seamore had told about these events many times over the years to many new reapers, but each time the memories came back and held onto him almost pulling him off the worn dirt path. A loud crackle in the fire brought him back.

"And there was a dark side that came out. Penny you've probably seen enough death to know that not everyone goes into pretty lights. On the battlefield some of the living die and a darker force seizes them and they disappear into it. Sometimes shiny new reapers forget that the cause they died fighting for is no longer their concern. As reapers you have no more causes to fight for. No politics, no concern with justice or fairness. Innocent people will die very horrible deaths. You cannot stop it. You have to step back and keep yourself from getting too close or you will get seized yourself."

Rube asked, "What do you mean?"

"I mean, Rube, on that battlefield I saw reapers who forgot their duties and in the wink of eye they were gone – taken down into a black nothingness. Death can be fickle and arbitrary and you can cross over some line unmarked by any sign and lose the chance to find your own lights someday. I've never seen anyone come back, although I've heard, once in a great while it happens that someone will come back. But they never remember where they went or what happened. Never met any myself though. Very rare heard tell."

Penny looked unsettled by that thought. "That seems capricious in the extreme. At least when we were alive we had the Bible and the ten commandments."

"When in doubt – don't. That's my advice. Listen to older reapers. We'll talk more later. And I have one more area of caution that you all must be very careful about."

Seamore regarded Rube for long moments before returning to the calming flickering of the fire. "Once in a while, despite our caution, and Death's cloak around us, some one or other among the living will come to suspect the truth about us. They see something. They somehow overhear something. Maybe not the whole truth, but some part of it. First, when that occurs, and I've seen this happen too many times, the cloak weakens and they can see more than they would otherwise. If that's it, then all is well. If they keep their knowledge to themselves, they will usually survive, but more often than not that little bit of knowledge puts them on a slippery slope."

Marsha was listening. "Sounds like the apple from the Tree of Knowledge."

Seamore's gaze shifted from the fire to meet Marsha's eyes. "If the living who've tasted of that forbidden apple then try to share with others who rightfully should remain ignorant about us, they will die a premature death – they'll die before they would have if they were allowed their normal destiny. There is a higher power at work in this and it will have its way and its will is it and our goings on are to remain unknown to the living. I believe all of the living have their own scheduled time for passing over. Everything balances, a time to live and a proper time to die, but partaking of that forbidden knowledge and then trying to share it – that is something that Death will not abide. It will not abide it at all, and some reaper will get a hasty call to collect that soul within hours if not minutes.

"If you attempt to share the knowledge of your and our existence with any of the living you are more likely than not condemning them to death and putting yourself in the line of fire to boot. And God help your own soul, should you attempt that with someone you knew when you were alive – a former husband or wife, or child, or friend. I believe that's one reason – a big reason – why reapers are almost always moved far away from their hometowns."

Pauline chose that moment to enter with a platter heavy with a large bottle of corn whisky and four shot glasses. She smiled at Seamore. "Father, some whisky?"

"Thank you, Pauline."

"Father, will there be anything else?"

"No dear, we'll be fine. The dinner was wonderful as always."

One of the reapers appeared at the top of the stairs. Rube believed her name was Madeline. Pauline looked up. "Franklin should be here any minute."

Seamore smiled at Pauline and asked, "Are you going out this evening?"

"Franklin is coming to take me to the motion picture theater, and Madeline said she would go along." Pauline was excited fussing now putting on her coat.

Madeline joined her as they heard the front door open. A tall man early middle age and smiling entered. "Mother, how have you been? Are you all ready to go?" His attention turned to Seamore as he walked over.

Seamore smiled back. "Franklin, good to see you again. How're Charlene and the kids?"

"Fine, Grandfather. We'll have her back right after the show. Madeline, good to see you again."

After more small talk they left. Their voices receding, and then things around the fire settled back down. Seamore looked content on his pipe and focused on the fire again.

Rube looked to Seamore. "She and Franklin…are very much alive."

Marsha felt encouraged to speak up too. "But, I thought you just said-"

"Not long after I arrived here in Seattle I found her – a small child – on the streets. Some reaper ghosted her."

Rube looked puzzled. "Ghosted her?"

"If you take one of the living into that ghost world with you – for however short a time – they are forever changed. They can't enter it themselves, but…they can hear ghosts, be touched by and see them, too. And do you know what happens if one of the living talks to people that no one else can see?" Seamore paused to let the implications sink in.

"She's safe here. But out there ghosts that still have things to do, the ones who refuse to cross over, are drawn to someone like her. Ghosts don't sleep and they will stay with someone constantly hounding them until lack of sleep and all just drives them insane. Here she's safe. Ghosts generally know better than to come in or near a house full of reapers. Anyway, in Pauline's case her family thought she was cursed and tossed her out into the streets to die. No one else wanted a small child especially one obviously either crazy or possessed. I took her in and raised her as my own. She's had two sons and two daughters who we raised and they're off on their own now."

Penny and Rube looked at each other. Penny ventured. "That seems to go against what you've-"

"Yes it does. I'm telling you not to ever let it happen. I don't know nor does she know exactly how she came to be ghosted. There are rumors. To my way of thinking it's an evil interference that I will not abide. I've tried to give Pauline some sort of decent life, but…" Seamore looked into the fire and gathered himself.

Penny had to ask, "Charles, who…is the father…is your son-in-law a reaper?"

"No Penny. We reapers cannot have children. And, no one around here would have her in a normal marriage…not the Chinese not anyone. She's learned to hide her abilities to see ghosts from outsiders…or she wouldn't be alive. I introduced her to an acquaintance of mine who seemed appropriate. They hit it off and married. He died years ago. The children come back for visits…discreet visits. Like Franklin. He lives nearby. And they know how to keep the necessary distance.

"She's getting on in years and wanted to try to reconcile with a brother still alive not far away. So a few months ago, I let her go try to talk to him, with a couple of reapers to keep her safe, but her own kind attacked her. Her brother wanted nothing to do with a cursed woman. Dishonor on the family and that. They tried to hurt her, but my two buzzed them that were foolish enough to get close, and brought her back. She's a little under shadows cause of that I fear." Seamore reached over and taking the bottle poured each a full shot. "If you drink enough of this stuff you can get drunk, but as you've probably heard already-"

Marsha had heard and didn't believe. "That we can't get sick like the living and now you say we can't get drunk not easily anyway, and I've heard we can't ever age?"

"I died at age 29 and don't look a day over."

"So, Mr. Seamore, for how long do we enjoy our new calling here trying to drink ourselves into oblivion not aging and collecting endless souls?"

Seamore fixed his eyes on Marsha. Rube thought that was a very good question himself although he wouldn't put it that way. "Some reapers believe there's some number of souls you have to collect and you'll be allowed to go into your own lights. But I know those old reapers in that hut had already been around a very long time. So I don't rightly know."

Seamore paused to refill his pipe and only after he was finished and lit up again did he continue. Everyone, even Marsha, was content to wait as they looked to the fire and took in all they had heard so far. "I know some reapers turn to prayer. I know some others turn away from prayer. I just don't know. This reaper fate we've each been handed is a detour, a special sojourn before we get our own lights, and we each have to decide what to make of it. Some do indeed spend their time and money on drinking themselves into oblivion, but others take advantage of the time and opportunity to contemplate the wonders of this world and all that's here before getting the OK to leave it behind.

"You are denied the life you see going on all around you, but at the same time, you've been freed to – if you choose – if you have the wisdom? - to choose to prepare for whatever awaits us on the other side of those lights. You will never get a worldly sickness, nor have to fear death, you cannot get married and will never have issue, and while you work for the higher power you will never grow old.

"In any case, Marsha, this is some mighty fine whiskey and I'm going to drink a goodly share of this bottle tonight. Anyone got a toast?"

Before anyone could answer, the voices of the two reapers from before could be heard entering the front door but there was a third angry voice from a woman and she was new to Rube. Tim came through into the sitting room first followed by Jerry followed by the ghost of a woman. "How dare you, sir? How dare you touch me that way?"

Seamore got a pained looked and closed his eyes. He put his shot glass down and stood up to face the three. "Again?"

It was Tim leading the way who answered, "Yeah, Charles, he did it again. I told him not to, and he just went ahead and did it again."

Rube noticed that this Jerry seemed proud of himself. He sported an annoyingly self-satisfied smile.

Seamore looked to the woman. Jerry started for the stairs.

"Jerry, stop there. Miss. Miss Blake. I want to apologize."

"Who are you, sir, and why would you apologize for the totally inappropriate behavior of this poor excuse for a man?"

"I'm his supervisor, Miss."

"Well, you are not doing a very good job may I inform you?"

"Jerry, perhaps you should apologize to the young woman?"

"Miss, you have my deepest and sincerest apologies from the bottom of my heart. I meant no disrespect. I was just admiring your -"

"Thank you, Jerry. Please go upstairs."

Rube, Marsha, and Penny took this moment to excuse themselves. Jerry held back to let Marsha climb ahead. Rube and Penny were in back. Rube noticed Jerry eying Marsha's posterior. Jerry said, "Hello Marsha. Did you enjoy the evening talk?"

Penny and Rube looked at each other and climbed the stairs after Jerry.

Rube could hear Seamore apologizing, again, to the apparition. What a strange turn his life…and death had taken. Sometimes he woke up and forgot his old life was gone. His wife was gone. His little Rosie was gone. This just dead woman was so angry he doubted she was yet aware of her own death. Life…and death were far more strange than he had ever imagined. And this was just the beginning.


	4. Chapter 4 Penny and Marsha Sleep

**4 Penny and Marsha Sleep**

"**Hope there's someone who'll take care of me**

**When I die, Will I go?**

**Hope there's someone who'll set my heart free**

**Nice to hold when I'm tired**

**There's a ghost on the horizon**

**When I go to bed**

**How can I fall asleep at night**

**How will I rest my head?**

**Oh I'm scared of the middle place**

**Between light and nowhere**

**I don't want to be the one**

**Left in there, left in there**

**There's a man on the horizon**

**Wish that I'd go to bed**

**If I fall to his feet tonight**

**Will allow rest my head?**

**So here's hoping I will not drown**

**Or paralyze in light**

**And godsend I don't want to go**

**To the seal's watershed**

**Hope there's someone who'll take care of me**

**When I die, Will I go?**

**Hope there's someone who'll set my heart free**

**Nice to hold when I'm tired"**

'**Hope There's Someone' by Antony and the Johnsons**

That night Marsha and Penny shared a bed. Marsha turned one way then the other. Penny hovered near sleep once and then again as Marsha would lie still for a minute or two and then roll jerking Penny awake.

"Marsha, it's nice to be able to sleep in a real bed again, isn't it?"

Marsha faced Penny in the dark. The light from the moon filtered through the curtains covering the lone window in their bedroom.

"It wasn't supposed to be this way. I had a husband and a baby, for a while at least, and I had a house and a future. And is it really gone, or is this a nightmare?"

"It could be worse."

"Really, Penny, how could it be worse? This is not what I thought the reverend's Sunday sermons meant when he talked about what waited for us in the hereafter. It just doesn't seem real."

"I've seen a lot since my own passing. I know there's something more. I've sent thousands into those beautiful lights."

"Why did I have to die? I hardly did anything. And if I did have to die, why didn't I get to go into those lights? What…what did I do to deserve this hell?"

"I've also watched many people go into something much darker just like Charles talked about tonight. I don't know what I did or why I was picked to stay in this in-between life. I just don't know, but…Marsha…I do know that I don't want to go to the dark place. And even if I have to stay here for a while how…or what does it matter compared to an eternity someplace better?"

Penny held out her arms and Marsha allowed herself to be held as they moved closer and settled in. With her arms around Marsha, Penny could feel the tension leave her.

Marsha took a deep breath. "It seems like an eternity already here. I don't know if I can do this. You know, Penny, I'm often prone to anxiety attacks, so I really wasn't a good choice for this."

"Sweetie, I know it won't be easy for you, but just take it one day at a time. Just take on each task one step at a time and let yourself get used to this new life. I know you didn't ask for it. I didn't either, but try to see it as an opportunity. Maybe God is testing you for something bigger someday."

"I hope not. I'm not made for anything bigger. I just wanted…I just want my life…the one I had. I was going to have children, raise them, and grow old with my husband. I miss my father, my mother, my brothers and sisters, and my little baby. It hurts just to think that they're there and they think I'm gone. But I'm not, I'm right here. I never even got to hold my son but for a few minutes and then it was all over. That's just not fair. It's just not fair."

Marsha cried softly as she drifted off soon followed by Penny.

2


	5. Chapter 5 Rube Goes Home

**5 Rube Goes Home**

Rube walked down a street not far from Seamore's house. It was morning with just a few clouds. The sun could be out soon and really dry things out…finally. He had completed his first reap – with an escort – and now he hoped for plenty of free time to explore. Reaps did not seem to be scheduled too far ahead so Seamore made it clear he was not to stray far and check in often. But Seamore also encouraged him to walk about and see their territory with his free time. Except for the part about having died, losing his family, and his freedom, being dead could be worse.

The others were having some trouble with Marsha, but so far Penny was the one drafted by Seamore to get her to cooperate. She wasn't right in the head. That was clear to him.

He stopped in front of his goal, a church, big, impressive and convenient to Seamore's boarding house. He was flexible as to the pathways to the Almighty. Lucy refused to consider marriage unless he agreed to convert and become a Catholic. His few years with her as a Catholic hadn't remade him. He considered himself a flexible if somewhat lapsed Jew, and being dead hadn't closed his mind to the hereafter possibilities. If anything it gave him an appreciation that something came after death.

Although after his sins and his death, he wasn't sure how he fit into the Catholic scheme. He could use the help, any help, right now, and a little prayer couldn't hurt before he took his next step. He climbed the front steps and entered through the front. No need to hide himself. He was sure God knew he was coming and what he planned to do.

Later that morning he loitered down the street from the house of his widowed cousin, Ruth Meyer. His wife, Lucy, and his Rosie had moved in and were living with her. What free time he had in the last week he used to hang around getting familiar with their comings and goings. He knew his cousin left early followed soon by Lucy, and that she would leave Rosie with a neighbor.

He didn't have much time as Seamore wanted to see him in about an hour. Lucy walked out and down the street away from him. Rube headed towards the front door and knocked. Getting no answer he reached under the mat for the spare key, opened the door, and replaced the key.

Inside, he eased the door closed, and opened his jacket. Even though the morning was on the cool side, he wiped his forehead of sweat. God it was quiet. Each step made the floor creak.

The house was small. He liked that it was clean. He doubted his cousin welcomed the intrusion of her sister-in-law and a small girl. He didn't know his cousin well. She moved out to Seattle with her husband several years before and had no children he was aware of. She was not well off and had been forced to take a clerking job to help make ends meet after her husband died. He couldn't remember how he died. But she was a good person and when he had died, she took in Lucy and Rosie, and for that he was grateful.

He glanced over the modest kitchen and living room. What he wanted wouldn't be down here.

He found a cramped bedroom upstairs with a framed photo of Lucy and Rosie on the bedside stand next to a lamp. He stopped to listen to the house and confirmed again he could hear no one else. When he didn't move it felt as quiet as a tomb.

He didn't want to leave any trace as he opened each drawer of the small chest of drawers. He checked under and around the meager belongings before turning to the tiny closet where he found two travel cases under a few dresses on wire hangers. Lucy couldn't have brought much with her and Rosie. None of his clothes were anywhere, but he didn't expect to find any. He found what he was looking for packed away in a top sleeve of one of the cases, an envelope with a loose flap, and inside was his wallet.

He moved to sit down on the bed, but caught himself. The bed was tightly made and he didn't intend to leave behind evidence. He stood and emptied the envelope onto the bedcover. His wallet's leather felt the same. He opened his wallet and then looked over the few personal papers probably returned by the police after he died. Nothing in the wallet was as he had left it. No doubt the police had taken everything out and weren't concerned about original order, but after looking through each nook what he sought was safe. He pulled out the picture of Lucy he had always carried with him from before they had married.

The back door of the house opened below and then closed with a sound magnified by the silence it disturbed. He was trapped. He stood and looked around for a way out. He tossed the wallet and papers back into the envelope, hurried to the window, and tried to open it. It was heavy or maybe just stuck. He pulled the handle up hard and it slid just a little up. He didn't want to break the window. He pulled up with more intent and it shuddered before giving way and rising. He looked down into the backyard. He was about to jump when he heard someone on the first steps. He went back, grabbed the picture of Lucy and Rosie on the bedside table and put one leg through the open window. He hesitated. He knew that he would heal from any hurt he got, but still. Knowing this he still paused before deliberately causing oneself real damage and pain. The theory of the healing process and the reality of the anticipated pain were in conflict. Seamore had told him there would be a long period of carryover before his mental self-image had fully absorbed the fact of his being undead and what that meant. It looked far down there to jump. The issue was decided when he heard another loud creak on the steps. He jumped.

He gathered himself below. As he started walking away he looked back to see Rosie watching him from the open window. She could see the picture he was holding. He stopped to slide it into the envelope and then just as he was about to hurry off, she waved. She waved and smiled. He couldn't help himself. He waved back and then walked away – more slowly than he had intended, and with his own smile. He couldn't beat Death at his game, but maybe he could win one hand. Rosie had smiled at him. There was hope yet in this in between existence.

Lucy walked up the stairs to Ruth's house and entered. She could smell dinner cooking. Thank God for what they had. Without Ruth's generosity she and Rosie would be on the street. She had no family in this country, no one she could turn to.

"Hi Ruth."

Ruth was busy cutting vegetables on a board. She wiped her hands and turned to smile.

"Lucy. How was work today?"

"I may get a few more days starting next month. And the Smith's offered to recommend me to their neighbors. Where's Rosie?"

"She's upstairs with Betsy playing."

As she entered the bedroom she saw the girls playing on the bed with the remains of an old dollhouse and dolls, and then she saw the picture was gone. She looked around and could see the closet door open with the travel cases disturbed.

"Rosie, what happened?"

"Hi Mom."

"Rosie, why did you go through the suitcases? And the drawers? And where is the picture?" Lucy looked to where the picture had been on the bedside stand.

"I didn't, Mommy."

"OK. Who did?"

"Papa came back today."

Ruth had come up to stand next to Lucy, who stood watching her daughter play on the bed with Betsy and their dolls. She turned to Ruth, and her face framed a question. Ruth shrugged.

"When I came home, she was playing downstairs with her friend. I shut this window. I didn't know she could open it. I had trouble getting it back down."

"No, Aunt Ruth, I didn't open it. It's too heavy for me. I couldn't close it and it was cold so we stayed downstairs."

"Rosie, Papa isn't coming back. He's gone. He died, Honey."

"No, Mommy, he was here today. I saw him."

"Why do you say that, Rosie?"

"I saw him."

"Did he talk to you?"

"No. I think he heard me come in and got spooked and jumped out the window."

The two women went to the window and looked down to the grass.

"Lucy, look." Ruth pointed to the deep impression of two feet directly below the window."

"Someone jumped from this window and hit the lawn hard."

Lucy went to the suitcases and opened them. She could see the envelope with Rube's wallet was gone and the papers the police had given her in connection with handling his body and cremation.

Lucy strained to keep her voice level and calm. She turned to face Rosie. "Why do you think he came back, Rosie?"

"He always liked that picture of you in his wallet, Mommy. He showed it to me. Before you two got married. I think he wanted that. And he took that picture on the nightstand of you and me. I saw that in his hand when he looked back."

"He looked back?"

"After he jumped, he walked a bit and looked back. He put the picture in the envelope and waved, and, I would know his smile anywhere. His face is different though." She looked a bit puzzled, but dropped it and said, "Don't worry, Mommy. I told you he would find us. He must have followed us here. He'll be back. Just as soon as he works things out over there."

Ruth put her hand on Lucy's arm. Lucy wasn't sure which worried her more, that her daughter believed what she was saying or, what she was saying was true. Lucy kept her voice calm. She was afraid to ask. She felt really afraid, but she couldn't stop herself and she asked, "Rosie. What do you mean, over there?"

"Mommy, you told me he died. I'm sure it's not easy coming back to visit from the other side."

Ruth brought an end to the conversation. "Lucy, can you help me finish dinner?" She turned and hurried downstairs and Lucy saw her making the sign of the cross.


	6. Chapter 6 Rube Meets Seamore

**6 Rube Meets Seamore**

Rube placed the envelope with the framed picture and papers inside his travel bag in the room he shared. It was the best he could do as far as hiding. He would have trouble explaining the picture to Seamore if he ever found out. The wallet he would carry with him and pretend he just acquired it.

He found Seamore downstairs sitting in front of the fireplace pulling on his pipe and replenishing the layer of blue tinged smoke that hung chest high in the downstairs communal areas. Pauline and two reapers were busy in the kitchen preparing something for tonight otherwise they were alone.

"Rube, good to see you again. How are you finding Seattle weather?"

"It's fine. A welcome change from back east. They've already got some snow. You wanted to see me?"

"Sit down. Tobacco?"

"Thanks." Rube pulled out his own cigarette and lit it.

"Rube, I need your help on a few matters."

"Anything, Charles."

"Maybe you've heard about the transfer from China a few months ago?"

"Transfer?"

"Let me explain." Seamore took his time perhaps collecting his thoughts. Rube was so new. "If you do what you're supposed to do, then everybody is happy, more or less. However, if you don't then upper management has to deal with that. I've seen various methods. A reaper can be terminated, which is rare and extreme, or that reaper can be taken into the Dark, forget going into the lights, and I've never seen one of those come back again myself. It's the same Dark that takes the really nasty souls. Finally, the least painful remedy is upper management will transfer them to some new place.

"Most all reapers are moved to somewhere far away from their living relatives and acquaintances right after they become reapers. But sometimes they get moved again. Many times, and Penny is an example, they can get moved just to fill some need only known to upper management, but then sometimes, when they do something outside the permitted, they get sent far away."

Rube was puzzled and it must have shown on his face. Had he been found out so quickly? Were they going to send him away? Could they send him to China?

"Not you Rube. No. A new Chinaman arrived here a few months ago. He's a very old reaper they say. Well over a thousand years old. He doesn't report to anyone here and basically he assumed the supervision of the two reapers working Chinatown. It was made known to the senior reapers in this area that he was being sent here as a last chance."

"And why is this a problem now?"

"This Chinaman wasn't here but a few days and he already was pushing criminal activities. I mean we all take advantage of opportunities…when they don't interfere with the living and don't disturb, say, the balance among the living, but **this guy** is pushing his people to commit actual crimes and to take advantage of the living in ways…well…we all expect a reaction to come soon. We just want to contain the repercussions as best we can."

"I'm new at this reaper job, Charles, so I don't really follow your meaning. What is he doing? And why? Wouldn't an old reaper like this know better?"

"He's smart, and very careful, but the effects of his actions are very harmful. My guess is that he practiced this stuff in China for years and finally he crossed some line and got sent here. The guy is arrogant in the extreme, or that's what I've heard. The more senior of the two reapers in Chinatown tried playing some of these tricks many years ago and got some sort of corrective warning, and more or less for the last 60 years, he's played by the rules. Now with this new Chinaman the two have taken these things far beyond anything I've ever seen. Do you remember I told you that Pauline was ghosted as a child?"

"Yes."

"The reaper who did it was probably the current right hand man. He did it probably as part of blackmail scheme."

"For money?"

"Maybe, Rube. Likely he made it clear that if Pauline's father didn't, say, turn over her older sister or some money, or some other favor, then he would 'curse' one or more of the children, which was done to Pauline. For a young child to suddenly start talking to unseen spirits and such would not only ruin her for marriage, but destroy the family's reputation. Such threats can yield, not only women, but money. And as you can imagine upper management frowns on this sort of thing. Well, we hear he's up to that sort of scheme, we've heard threats have been made, or shall we say insinuations, and then we've also heard he's taken control of the local criminal elements in Chinatown and even advanced feelers towards the non-Chinese crime community."

"Why doesn't this upper management do something then?"

"I don't know why. Sometimes I think they or it operates on a totally different time scale than we exist in. There's a bigger picture than any of us can see, so it's all in good time. But perhaps it's because he is so careful in how he pressures the living. He doesn't use a heavy hand, no direct threats, but he communicates what he wants and the consequences if he doesn't get it, and more often then not he gets what he wants. It's not just the living. I've heard he approached a reaper boss working natural deaths to the north for a share of their opportunity revenues. Unbelievable! He actually insinuated he wanted a fixed amount to be turned over per month."

Rube could see himself getting involved in some unpleasant intrigue.

"So what do you want me to do?"

"I need Penny elsewhere than hand holding Marsha. Marsha, I don't want to lose, and with a little care she could come along just fine. So, Rube, I know in your weeklong trip out here you developed some rapport with her, and I want you to get her fully on board with being a reaper. I expect her first reap any day now, and she's not ready. Get her ready."


	7. Chapter 7 Rube Haunts

**7 Rube Haunts**

The air was cool but the sun warm on a Sunday early afternoon in Ruth's backyard. Ruth, Lucy, and a few neighborhood women were sitting at an old wooden picnic table gossiping while their kids played around them.

Rube watched them from down the alley. He noticed a cat watching him. Seamore had said the living see a different person. He knew other reapers saw him as he looked when he was alive, but what did this cat see? The cat didn't care and looked away.

He heard Lucy laugh at some joke he couldn't catch, and he had a flash of doubt. He wasn't supposed to be here. There was no place for him here. He knew that, but he couldn't not try to help them. But was this helping? Of course it was. He wouldn't reveal himself. He would learn enough and find some angle to justify his doing something anything for his wife and little girl. What could go wrong?

He walked towards them. They did not take notice. Close up he said, "Ladies. Good afternoon." They all turned to him. Until he willed himself to be seen and spoke they had not noticed his approach.

Ruth looked him over and said, "Good afternoon. And what can we do for you? Are you selling something?" Rube had a demeanor that was easy going and he was a natural salesman. But back then he wasn't satisfied with what little Lucy and he had, he wanted more, he got greedy. That wanting led him down a slippery slope. If he had just been a little more successful when he was alive, they would all be in New Jersey now, together. But he was here, and things were what they were, so he turned that natural salesman bearing on now. He threw in a little of Scottish brogue – just a touch. It often worked in New Jersey.

"No, ladies. I'm in need of work. Anything needs fixing. If I can't fix it then no charge."

He already had all the ladies but one smiling. That one, Lucy, was looking at him carefully, too carefully. He had made a mistake coming here. He could see it on her face. He decided to retreat before any harm was done. Then he saw that Rosie had caught sight of him and was walking to the table.

He decided to exit quickly. This was really not going well. "I'll check back later. The name's Tom Jameson. Give it some thought. Good day."

He could feel their eyes on his back as he walked. And he could just hear Rosie.

"Mama. Where's Papa going?"

He walked a little faster.


	8. Chapter 8 Lucy Visits the Priest

**8 Lucy Visits the Priest**

Rube's confidence as a reaper was growing. Seamore had explained that the process of shifting his self-identity would be a gradual one. The process needed care and nurturing and over the centuries old reapers had learned how to best ensure a successful shift for the young ones or so Seamore had explained. For most of the living, those who died and then needed to be escorted into their lights, not much was necessary to keep them from going rogue, which Seamore explained was a ghost not going over there and not really being here. Someone normally would be confused right after death, some more than others, but most could, without too much prodding, be encouraged into their lights. And all was well. But for new reapers, who were to be held over for many decades, they had to be acclimated to their new undead existence. The process was not always successful according to Seamore. That's why so much care was taken to ensure a new grim reaper got to see their own funeral and see their remains put away, cremated, buried, or whatever. And when it was successful, then the new reaper's self-identity could undergo a shift, not always easy, from feeling themselves one of the living, competing to stay alive, avoid disease or violent death, to find a mate, raise a family, these are all aspects of being alive that are interwoven into the mental fabric of someone in this world, how they see themselves and the world and people around them. And these concerns have to be gradually squeezed out of the minds of new reapers. Oh, Rube still had to do laundry, and preferred to avoid hunger pains, so he had to find food, although a reaper could not die of starvation, going without food was unpleasant, but as Seamore explained in his talks in front of the fire, a grim reaper was one of the undead, held over to serve a higher calling. There was a tipping point after which the new reaper came to accept and understand to their inner most core the end of their existence in this world and only then could they be open to accept their reaper identity as a soul collector and escort.

Rube knew he was not blameless in his own life, but he also knew that many who had done much worse got to continue on to their own lights, so he had no idea why he was singled out to stay behind. He had decided to make the best of the situation. He didn't ask for it, but many worldly cares had been removed as obstacles to enjoying some of what the living he hid among were offered. Yes, he could see many possibilities and Seamore encouraged him to see this calling as a reaper as an opportunity, not a curse. And he did not understand why he had been allowed after his death to be so close to his wife and daughter, and just as he came around to seeing his undead existence as an opportunity, he quickly came around to seeing this too as an opportunity, one that if handled carefully could be exploited. Seamore had been clear about staying away, but this was his family. How could he not try to help them. They after all were still alive with all that implied, the dangers and struggles. They would grow old, they could feel real hunger, suffer real harm from the cold, violence, and needed to be protected. And it was because of him that they were left in this situation. How could he not do something? And so he found himself out this morning with a purpose.

One reaper talent that was useful was the ability to blend into the background, to go unnoticed. He found that he could stand in full view of Lucy and unless he willed her to see him she apparently did not notice him at all. This morning he followed her to the same church he liked to visit.

He liked to visit the church. The hereafter had taken on a new meaning for him. Death has a way of changing one's perspective. And so his visits to this church had new layers of meaning in every aspect of the experience. For him the interaction with the Almighty began well before entering. As he approached the church edifice he took in the massive stone front face. The stone carving work and great height reaching for the sky told him that this building would long outlast his few years on this planet. The broad stone steps forced him to stretch his step beyond normal making him feel a bit small. The heavy wooden doors were also out of proportion and taller than need be for any human. And then Rube always enjoyed the smell just inside that told him this was a special place marking it as a holy sanctuary. The building was more than a church, it was a fitting portal to contain a conversation with the divine.

Lucy seemed agitated as she entered through the heavy doors. He followed well behind and stood to the side. He could see her talking to a sister near the altar, and then she entered the confessional. He considered testing the limits of his reaper abilities, but…there were some boundaries better left uncrossed. He left through the same doors and found a place from where he couldn't miss Lucy exiting. And there he waited.

After minutes turned into more than an hour Rube was worried she had left by some other door, when he saw Lucy walk through the doors accompanied by a priest. The two exchanged good byes, and, she started towards home. Rube waited for the priest to re-enter and then without trouble came up behind Lucy.

"Well, hello Ma'am. I notice you leaving the church."

Lucy turned and looked hard at his face. He walked up to her and stopped a little over an arm's length away. He put on his best smile. It worked once in another place and time. It worked so well they fell in love and got married, but...that was then. The expression directed his way was not friendly and she said, "What do you want, sir?"

"Ma'am, I remembered you from the other day. I'm still looking about for…"

"I think it would be best if you were to look elsewhere."

"I'm sorry if I offended you, Ma'am."

"I…I…don't know what you are or how you came to be here, but I know who you used to be."

"I don't know what you mean."

"Rube?" She said like she was testing the word. He could feel in her voice conflicting emotions pulling at her. "You have to stay away. You died. I don't know by what power you are here, but the priest told me that sometimes when people die…in bad circumstances…they have trouble finding their way…where they need to go. But he was clear that you must stay away. We must stay…apart. It is dangerous for you to…be near us." Lucy didn't usually talk so much, but she seemed to have a lot to get out. "Don't come breaking into what little we have left to steal what few possessions we have. Keep the picture and wallet, but don't come back. Please, Rube. Go where you're supposed to go and do what you're supposed to do, but leave me…and Rosie…to go on the best we can. Please. Don't destroy her life. She doesn't understand. She has a blind love for her Papa and she can't help herself no matter the cost. You have to do what's right." There were tears forming. She was both demanding and pleading.

Rube stood still and under her glare he felt lost. There was no welcoming look as there once was. "Lucy, it's a miracle that..."

At his admission, the uttering of her name, her voice turned hard and angry. "No. It's not a miracle. Think about what you did. Do you really believe a miracle has been gifted upon you? Some dark power has taken you, and I will not allow you to pull our daughter into it with you. No, I will not. I want you to go away and stay away."

Rube couldn't say another word. He backed away a few steps, and then turned and walked away. What could he say? He knew Lucy. The Church was the foundation for how she lived her life. She wouldn't have married him unless he converted. He did, and they did. Now in her confusion and need after his death she turned to the Church, to a priest, and it seems this priest was intent on building a wall between any possible plans he had…for what? He wasn't even sure what he had planned. Seamore wouldn't condone anything either. He had made it clear. Only his daughter wanted him around. The closer he tried to get the farther apart they were pushed.

He was betrayed by the divine just when he needed it the most.


	9. Chapter 9 Ice Meets Jerry

**9 Ice Meets Jerry**

Seamore was sitting in front of the fire talking with Rube, Penny, Tim, Jerry and a few other senior reapers about the latest news of the Chinaman's activities. It was late afternoon and Pauline and a few helpers including Marsha were preparing dinner.

Rube said little and listened a lot. This new Chinaman, his name was Tong, was an old reaper, and Rube was not surprised to hear, much of his power derived from his cleverness. He pushed boundaries, not all of which Rube understood, but the man was a manipulator of the first order that much was clear. He had been transferred to Seattle all the way from China and given control of two reapers already here, Jung and Xie.

Reapers existed on the fringes of human society and they had to walk carefully on a sharp edge boundary between not interfering with the goings on of the living and still appearing to be one of them. Step too far over that boundary, and oddly, though there was no rulebook - there was no Moses for reapers who helpfully chiseled instructions in stone - and the repercussions could be swift and fatal. It was true reapers were dead but there were fates worse than death it seemed. He would ask Penny later for more details.

To make ends meet reapers could exploit opportunities. These were situations in which things of value could be construed as having dropped between the cracks, out of influencing the destinies of the living. Cash was favored, but jewels, bearer bonds, or whatever, some thing that could be construed as lost to the living. Sometimes someone would die and leave no one to claim a house. Reapers would then share these things, or not, among their group and with their boss.

Some reapers would push the boundaries to create opportunities and to expand the range of things of value. Seamore suspected that the senior of the two Chinamen, Jung, was the one some 60 plus years before who had ghosted Pauline when her father had declined some requested favor such as money or the favors of an older daughter. Of course, the living did not know back then nor did they know now the true nature of the threat being used to extract something of value. It would be presented as a curse of some magic man, or a witch, or whatever. It didn't take long after a few requests had been refused and some sort of misfortune immediately followed for people to begin bending to the reaper's will. Maybe one person's house would mysteriously catch fire, another's secreted cache of money made to disappear, or, in Pauline's case, a little girl would suddenly speak of unseen spirits talking to her.

Back some 60 years ago, Jung, abruptly stopped his misbehavior. Seamore did not know why, and peace was the rule till this new transfer from China had shown up. Now his activities were not just among the Chinese community, but also spreading to other neighborhoods. Seamore had heard that another reaper boss just east of Chinatown had been approached with a suggestion that he share in opportunity revenues.

There was a loud pounding at the front door. Tim who was standing closest left the room to answer. A woman entered followed by Tim.

She said, "Hello, Seamore, so good to see you again."

Seamore stood up. Rube noticed his eyes were ready to pop.

"Ice?" Seamore regained his composure. "Please come in, and take a seat. You Jerry. Please make way for our guest." Jerry had occupied one of the better positions near the fire. Most stood up when they heard the name and the rest soon followed as they saw the great deference from Seamore extended to the guest. Word spread. All the reapers of the household stopped what they were doing and gathered in the room. Pauline even put things on low over the stove and came forward to see the cause of the commotion.

Rube remembered Seamore mentioning seeing this woman many years ago across the country just before some big battle in the Civil War. That was more than 65 years ago. Rube understood that reapers did not age, but to see such a stark example was unsettling because this woman was very young looking. He said she was rumored to be old then, so reapers really don't age. Her complexion was as Seamore described the lightest he had ever seen, as was her hair. The eyes stood out. He had never seen a person with irises so white as this woman's. Her nose was prominent, but within attractive. She was not petite, but still within attractive. Rube could see Jerry looking her over. He couldn't be so stupid.

She was not wearing animal skins, nor were there any bones or claws tied in her hair. She was dressed oddly in loose denim pants and a cotton shirt. Not the normal attire for a young woman. And, she was smiling looking reasonably friendly and open. This was in contrast to the nervousness the oldest among the reapers were showing.

She caught sight of Pauline, and her face lit up. "Pauline, so good to see you again. You're looking very well. I'm sorry to hear about your husband. How are the kids? George, Sally, Molly, and Franklin?"

Pauline so frequently taken for granted in the household was a bit embarrassed to be singled out, but also very pleased. She approached showing the biggest smile Rube had seen on her yet. "Miss Ice, I'm so glad to see you again. It's been so long." Ice came over and took Pauline in a warm hug. She said a few things Rube couldn't hear just for Pauline. Pauline nodded, smiled. Then he heard Pauline say, "It won't be any problem at all. We have plenty of room."

"I'm sorry to impose by dropping in, Charles, but I wanted to talk a few things over with you and your group."

Seamore fully recovered. "Please, Ice, you are welcome at any time."

Ice stood in front of her appointed seat. "I would like to meet everyone, if I could."

With that in order of seniority each reaper approached, shook her hand, something she initiated, introduced themselves. They each exchanged a few words with her in turn. She seemed to know things about each reaper and she was able to make most visibly at ease.

Well down the line Marsha approached. She didn't offer her hand. Ice had to take it, which as expected made Marsha pull back, but Ice held it as she looked into Marsha's eyes. Rube was right behind her so he could hear the exchange.

"Marsha. I know it's difficult at first, especially when you die in childbirth."

"I'm fine. I have no problem. Really."

Ice did not look convinced, but she let go of Marsha's hand. Marsha stumbled moving away.

Rube stepped up and offered his hand.

"Hi Rube." Before Rube could say his own greeting he was seized by the sensation of falling into those eyes she put to him and he knew, he could feel in his bones that she was seeing inside his soul. He did not resist, and she lingered holding his hand and looking into his eyes, as if she wanted to check on some detail only visible to her. When Rube had first taken Seamore's hand at the train station he knew there was age behind the hand. The presence he sensed now, that was exerted by this woman's soul, dwarfed Seamore's many times over. She released him and smiled. Evidently, he would not explore those possible worse fates today.

Those that could found a place to sit with a few on the floor. She told of goings on among reapers across the country, gossip really. They did not discuss the topic Rube knew to be the real topic and he suspected the real reason for her visit. And then they all moved to the dinner table. Pauline had found room for Ice. Ice complimented Pauline's cooking especially the apple pie, Ice really liked apple pie. They settled back into the sitting room for more talk and smoking and still no one talked about the Chinaman and his goings on.

Rube didn't understand, but had the sense to keep quiet and wait, more to discuss with Penny later. Jerry, on the other hand, was fascinated by Ice, and Rube could read on his face the delusion that Ice, like every other woman he met, couldn't resist his attentions. Rube did not like him.

Finally, it became clear to Rube that at some point during the hubbub, it was decided Ice would be spending the night. And in the morning she would meet with Seamore to discuss several matters with him. And that was odd.

Pauline drafted a couple of men to haul out a cot or two from the storage room and while they were still talking sleeping arrangements were shifted. Ice would sleep in Marsha and Penny's room.

Good nights were said and Marsha, Penny, followed by Ice began climbing the stairs. Then he saw Jerry move behind Ice on the stairs and touch her rear. Ice reached back grabbing his right hand with hers, pivoted which turned Jerry's arm and body over and facing down. She in one motion then brought her left arm down on his hyper extended right elbow, which because it was held in place by her right hand, broke. Jerry screamed in pain. Ice was not yet finished. She brought him up grabbed him by the throat and broke his neck. She threw him down the stairs and to the floor. She looked at him for a moment, smiled, and said to Seamore very calmly. "Shall we get together after breakfast?"

Seamore just as calmly said, "That would be fine, Ice."

After she disappeared to the upstairs attention turned to Jerry, who was in great pain. He held his arm and his head could not yet stand upright on his shoulders, very uncomfortable and no doubt painful. Rube could just hear him rasp out a few words with some panic in the tone. "Seamore, why can't I ghost?"

Seamore was looking at Jerry as he might a wounded cockroach. "She can prevent it over distance, a zone she exerts around her, so you're just going to have to heal without it."

Rube suspected everyone there was of one mind, that he had it coming.


	10. Chapter 10 Rube's Challenge

**10 Rube's Challenge**

Almost a full week had passed since Rube witnessed Jerry's attempt to woo Ice. She had left the next day. Rube was on a road east of Seattle. It was early afternoon and he was hitchhiking to get close to the rendezvous point for his triple reap during the coming night and early morning. He brought no food or water. Seamore told him he could feel hunger and thirst, but no real harm could happen, just a little discomfort - one of the advantages of being undead, according to Seamore. Jerry looked like he had gotten on the wrong end of a lot of discomfort. He already wished he had brought a sandwich and some water. He had to keep in mind that Seamore measured normal discomfort from his days as a Civil War soldier on the march. This was 1927 not 1863.

Depending on circumstances, which as far a Rube could tell weren't explained beforehand, sometimes the actual reaping of the soul could be done well away from and before the deaths. Once he tagged his marks, disconnecting the soul from the physical body, then he was to go near the place of death and after the actual death the soul would come to him. In this case three people were dying in the same place in some remote woods well away from any road. But the rendezvous point was to be several hours before and near a road, this road.

The driver of the last truck who picked him up looked doubtful when Rube told him he wanted to get off at this particular spot, a spot out in the middle of nowhere with no food, no water, no camping gear of any sort. Seamore told him that with a little experience he would be able to home in on his reaps especially when he ghosted, that they would stand out like bright beacons among all other people, and that he would be drawn to them. Well, Rube was out in the middle of nowhere and he could use some guidance here. One stretch of trees along this road looked pretty much like the next. Seamore said that his three reaps would stand out among other people, but he didn't mention all these trees. Would they stand out among all these trees? Just green trees every which way, hills and an empty road, and now he really could use something to eat, maybe some coffee, or even water. Even though it was November and the air was cool the sun was warm overhead in a mostly cloudless sky. He wiped his forehead with his coat sleeve. He reached into his coat pocket, and damn, no cigarettes. Why didn't he think to bring cigarettes? He looked to the sky and shook his head. He looked around, again, couldn't feel anything about any particular direction, so he sat down under a tree within sight of the road and waited for some sort of inspiration, supernatural, or, even something of this world, either would do just fine.

Why was he picked for these reaps? There seemed to be a lot of reapers around the Seattle area, and this was a ways out of Seattle, well to the east. And all he could see were trees and hills, and it was a few miles since he saw any house or building.

After more than an hour of contemplating nature, more in one sitting than he could remember doing in his life, he did get an itch of sorts that it would be right for him to go towards the north. He clambered down a steep bank and started through some heavy undergrowth. A part of him thought about the fact that he didn't know where he was going or how he would get back, it just felt right, and he went. At some point, and he didn't even realize it happened, he became aware he was moving through the heavy growth and then even through trees. He was ghosting and he didn't know how. Maybe it was like a baby bird just jumping off into the air. Maybe the secret was not to overthink this stuff. As it was needed it would be given.

And he wasn't surprised, in this weird ghost form that his perception of his reaps jumped into his mind. He now knew where his reaps were, still far up ahead, but he was moving towards them. He knew where they were and how far, and was already anticipating how to make his approach. Could he do the reaps in this form, too? That would make it easy. They wouldn't see him come or go. He came out on a trail that wound around a notch cutting deep into a broad hillside. He caught sight of them to his right, a woman and two small children, through the trees on the other side of the notch walking in single file along the hillside trail. He looked around and to his left saw farther down what looked to be a natural resting place in a shaded depression, maybe another trail crossed this one heading down into the lower reaches of the hill. He moved towards the depression still unseen to wait for them.

He was right. Another trail crossed and there was a spring. So he drank his fill. It wasn't coffee, but it would do, and he sat down to wait on the remains of a fallen tree. A cigarette would be nice, but… Within a few minutes they came within sight. The woman stopped short at seeing him and then moved forward. He smiled and tried to look as friendly as an agent of Death should. After all why make their last hours any more stressful than necessary. Although he had no idea how they would die, his own death hadn't been pleasant and was sure stressful.

She carried a canteen and wore a sunhat, as did each child. They wore their coats open for though the air was cool the sun was warm with all the walking. The two kids were a girl about 5, or maybe 6 years old and a boy a bit younger. The two were a tad young for a hike like this he thought, but then what did he know. He grew up in the city. The mother's smile seemed forced. He guessed she did not welcome his intrusion.

"How do you do Ma'am? Out for a bit of a hike I see."

"How do you do, Sir? Have you come far?"

I'm from Seattle. Just out exploring and found this shady spot to take a rest."

"You walked from Seattle? That is far. You know it is getting late. Were you planning to camp out here?"

"No Ma'am, I'm not. And no I didn't walk from Seattle. My campsite is down that way." He waved his hand up the cross trail that he knew was away from where they would be meeting their end. "My name is Rube, by the way."

"How do you do? My name is Gladys and these are my children, Lacy and Marcus." Rube offered his hand and she hesitated, and then took it, and he tagged her soul. He then good-naturedly shook hands with each child. The deed was done. That was easy.

"We're not camping either. We're heading to my Father's cabin not too far from here." She turned to the kids.

"Take a rest and get a little water and we'll be on our way. We're running a bit late, Sir, so we can't loiter. I don't mean to be rude, but we have no gear either and I don't want to be out after dark."

"It does get cold at night, at that. I don't want to slow you down. It was nice meeting you, and you, Lacy and Marcus."

Rube took his leave waving as he walked up the cross trail towards his imaginary campsite and away from their intended direction. He hadn't walked far before he halted and sat down on a fallen tree. What had he just done? He knew he was not responsible for their impending deaths, but…could he? What if he went with them and helped them and they didn't die? Seamore had warned him. The deaths were separated in time, but in the same remote place, so it could be something…how did he put it? He said it might be difficult and stressful…for him was his intended meaning. Seamore pushed on him the need to reap them well before their ends. He said you do not want to reap each some 10 minutes before death. Trust me Rube you will be suffering more than they. Rube had asked what he meant, and Seamore patiently laid it out. Their suffering has an end and then each will go into lights and it's over. You will carry the mark of the suffering and pain you witness for the rest of your reaper existence. And Rube, he said, you have many thousands of reaps before you will go into your own lights. Keep your distance or you will lose your sanity. You will wake up with nightmares of what you witness for the rest of your time here. Trust me on this, Rube, he said, I know. Keep some perspective. Reap early and collect them from some way off – both mind and body. At the time it had seemed thoughtful, but now? He wasn't going to die. They were. They were going to die. Whatever was to happen to those nice people was still a few hours away. It wouldn't be dark for maybe an hour. How could he not do something?

Lost in thought he lost track of time. Twilight came and then shifted to dark. When he looked up he could feel the first death was close. Oh, well, what will be will be, he got up and moved in a straight line towards the three. The trees, the brush, the dark, did not hinder or slow him down in the least. He came out into a modest clearing with a view of the stars through the trees and of a valley to the front. In the distance in the moonlight he could make out a cabin settled among a few large trees in a broad clearing. To his left through the dark he could make out the trail, not well marked which led down a steep path through rocks to a level area, which in turn descended again leading eventually into the valley. He then made his first grievous mistake, something that struck him even as he did it. When he stopped at the top of the ledge with the first view of that cabin in the distance he naturally reverted to his physical form, which was visible to the living, including the woman, who was still counted among the living. She could see him against the stars and in the moonlight and she immediately called for help. He looked down and how they were going to die was all too obvious to Rube now. She must have gotten off the trail in the dark as it meandered through these rocks and trees and when they caught sight of the cabin they walked right over this ledge. The drop didn't kill any of them right away, but none of them could move, and they needed help immediately, help he could not give.

The woman was the worst off. He guessed she had tried to break the fall for her children, but in doing so had broken her legs and probably done worse to her back. She must be in great pain and it was remarkable she was still conscious. The children…they were not much better. Rube moved around the ridge, found the trail down, and then over to where they lay. Another mistake.

"Thank God you've found us…wasn't your name Rube? Thank God. Please." She lost her train of thought and couldn't continue for long moments. Rube didn't know what to do with himself, what to say. What was he supposed to say?

"Ma'am. I…I…"

With great effort and labored breathing she managed to speak again. "Please. Before it's too late. Save my children."

"I can't. I can't save any of you."

She was overtaken by a fit of coughing. Blood came up. She would be dead soon. She couldn't talk anymore, and he moved out of sight. Then she died. He knew she died because her soul appeared next to him, dazed.

"What happened?"

"Ma'am, you died. I'm here to escort you to your next destination, you and your children."

She moved back over to get a look at her own body and her children, who were still alive. The first would not die for another hour and the second would last till almost dawn. Seamore saw something like this coming. One no problem, they die and off they go. More than two with delays and complications start piling up. The woman, Gladys, didn't see this as a problem of waiting while one inevitability was followed by the next. No. She had another idea.

"My children do not have to die. I accept that I have died, but if you, Sir, do something, now, then they will not."

"Ma'am…I'm here to escort the three of you to where you're going, and…"

That was not the response she expected, or would accept. She got angry. "What kind of man are you that you would allow these innocent children to die?"

Then she started using language she may have overheard during her brief life, but likely never practiced, and now directed it all at him. She alternated with nouns and commands, then nouns and colorful adjectives, followed by pleadings and references to Biblical scripture. She was well read, and desperate. He couldn't get a word in. These were her children and she would not give up. He couldn't blame her, but neither could he give in.

The little girl passed and her soul appeared next to Rube, and skittered away from Rube to be with her mother. The two talked. Rube was not being described in favorable terms, he guessed. She did, at least, stop her verbal assaults on him and his manhood. She took her daughter farther off to the side and the two waited watching the little boy. He had long since stopped moving or making any sounds. Rube knew he would die in another hour, just before dawn, but didn't say anything to the two waiting.

Rube walked over to the bodies and the still living barely breathing boy. He kneeled down and checked the boy's pulse, and then he made another mistake. He sat down next to the boy and pulled him into his arms to give him a little warmth. Maybe this prolonged his life and therefore his suffering, but Rube couldn't help himself. He tried to comfort the boy as he rocked him gently and the life seeped out.

When his end was near he shuddered a bit and gained consciousness. He saw Rube. "Papa. It hurts."

"I know, son. Everything will be OK soon."

"Where's Mama?"

"She's right here…waiting for you, Marcus."

With that the little body stopped resisting and it was over. His soul went from near Rube to his mother. She took his hand and without another word or even a look in Rube's direction the three continued on their way. She had no more words for Rube. It was as if he did not exist. She did not look back. With their first steps an upwelling of light appeared within a stone's throw, and became a perfect replica of the distant cabin. It was a spectacular display because around the cabin the trees, fields, and side buildings also appeared and the whole taken together lit up the sky.

This was the most spectacular display Rube had witnessed yet, and the wonder of it all was still fresh for him. The living knew nothing of this, whatever it was, waiting for them after they died. Penny told him that not all the dead got these lights. A few got something dark. Others, Rube knew, like himself and Penny, just got held over to become grim reapers working year after year to reap and escort souls to their lights. Were these lights the gateway to a better place? Perhaps they were the actual welcoming face of God taking in worthy souls. He didn't know. Apparently none of them could know, because as far as he had heard no one who went into the lights ever came back. Rube knew what he had done. He had made some bad choices, and a small boy died. Not a night went by that he didn't see that little boy's face. He couldn't complain. He had expected much worse than this as he felt his own death approaching. Maybe this was Purgatory, or maybe it was one form of Hell, and he would be tortured year after year, decade after decade, with looking upon the face of God just short of Heaven and not ever being allowed to enter. He was sure that little boy went there, and he wondered, when he was in a charitable mood, whether the little boy could really forgive him. He knew he couldn't forgive himself.

The young mother and her two children walked together up to the wood porch. The excited boy and girl hurried ahead, climbed the steps, and opened the door. They waited for her and then all three entered together. Rube watched closely looking for some hint what was inside the cabin and he caught a fleeting glimpse of the little boy, Marcus, looking back at him and waving, and then, just as quickly as the whole wonderful show of lights had begun, it ended. Everything was gone even before the door had closed, leaving him alone in the cold still dark morning. When all was said and done these three had no need of his reaper escort services. He reached back into his memories to his own funeral watching his wife and daughter stand in front of his plain wooden casket for something to match the emptiness gripping him at this moment.

He didn't remember moving but by the time the dawn light found him he was sitting at the top of the cliff overlooking the three bodies. He studied the three mangled bloody corpses. It was not a pretty sight, these deaths. They did not die quickly. And he did not handle it well. They had escaped their pain, passing over to somewhere, he hoped, better, but he could feel in himself, left behind here, somewhere not as good, his mood falling into somewhere dark. Was this some sort of Hell he was left in, this in-between place? And was he doomed to stay in this in-between state, not alive, and not really dead, forced to be close up to and breathing in death? Among the living, but not one of them. Everyone died. Most people most of the time managed not to think about it, to ignore the reality of their own predestined ends, which more often than not were unpleasant, many times extremely so, and Rube was assigned as a reaper to the category of ends that were most often very unpleasant. What had they told him – accidents, murders, and suicides? He could look forward to being present at an endless stream of people, good, bad, and whatever in between, when they and he were confronted with mangled bloody ends. Innocent little children…

A man stood down below looking at the three bodies. He was wearing casual work clothes, a blue shirt and denim trousers held up by a well-worn leather belt. He looked up at Rube and smiled a gentle smile. "Rube, you handled it just fine. And they got where they needed to go."

"Can you read minds?"

"No. Just a lot of practice reading faces…and situations. I'm called Henry."

Rube jumped a bit when Henry appeared sitting next to him.

"How do you feel?"

"I feel terrible." That's not obvious?

"I mean, for your first time, you did a lot of moving through the spirit world or ghosting as reapers call it these days. Most reapers feel physically sick afterwards."

"I think I was a bit preoccupied with the attention the young woman was sending my way to notice."

"Just as well." The man produced a canteen and offered it to him. "Drink?"

"Thanks." He drank, and looked the canteen over. It's seemed real enough. And passed it back.

They sat together for a long while saying nothing. Rube began to lose the dark focus on what had happened and the bodies down below.

"You know, Rube, you won't ever forget what you saw here."

"No, I don't think I will."

"And you should let that be a good thing." He paused again before continuing.

"This experience will help you learn to keep some distance from the actual death of your reap, the appropriate perspective. It's not your doing and you can't change what has to happen. Things have a natural balance that we can't understand when we're too close only grasp something of when we stand back a ways. Like this view."

Henry moved his arm and drew Rube's attention to take in the view of the valley spread out before them now that the sun was up, which in the early morning glow really was a sight to behold. The cabin was placed just so among a grove of trees and he could see there was a sizable stream not far away. Mountains framed the background. This was a picture people would see and wish to be a part of. A perfect life, made up of one moment following upon the next until strung together into big and small events, could easily be imagined happening in a place like he looked upon now.

"From here, Rube, that's many a man's dream place down there. But you leave this cliff and walk down into the valley and among the details you lose perspective. Not to say there's not a lot to appreciate down among the trees, grass, and along that stream, but it would be the up close reality. Down there a man went to bed last night waiting for his daughter and grandchildren. He'll wake up and likely today he will be living some painful details. It will be hard.

Can you see just beyond the cabin out towards the beginning of the open area and just under that large tree? What do you see?"

"A few crosses and tombstones…a tiny cemetery."

"From here in the broad sweep of this view those are tiny details in the picture, but each grave has a story, sometimes a very painful story. One of those stones stands over the long buried wife of the man living there. His daughter is the woman you reaped last night."

"Gladys was her name." Rube blurted out. Henry paused to look at him as if Rube wasn't getting the point. Then he continued.

"He raised her himself. She hated to leave so she married a local and they set up their own place in the next valley. Her husband, of course, doesn't yet know the fate of his wife and children, but…he will wonder for the rest of his life…what if he hadn't delayed her yesterday morning and she hadn't started late? Would she have fallen in the dark?"

Rube had such thoughts about bad choices of his own haunting him. There were choices he regretted.

"How's Marsha coming along?"

Rube was surprised that Henry knew anything about Marsha. What did he know about her, any of them? And how?

"She'll be fine. From talking to her, I think that fever she had after a difficult birth addled her brain a bit so there wasn't a sharp life death transition, but that's just my observation. I'm a bit new to all this."

"That's a pretty good observation." Henry kept his gaze on the valley. "You know, Rube, working as a reaper near your family is a difficult pathway to follow for a reaper. It is in fact unusual. The temptations, despite the dangers can be…overwhelming."

Rube looked at him. Henry let that sink in before continuing.

"Do you know how Pauline came to be adopted by Charles?"

Rube did not like the direction this was going.

"Henry, could you speak more clearly?"

"The Chinaman, Mr. Tong, as we speak is making choices. I hear from Ice that he has asked for a meeting with Charles at the boarding house this afternoon."

Rube thought about this.

"I think it likely, Rube, that Mr. Tong will make the wrong choices as he has for some time now. The man seems compulsive about pushing boundaries, dangerous boundaries better kept away from. I think it likely he will cross one too many of those boundaries this afternoon."

"And what will you do about it?"

"Nothing." Henry shrugged and kept focused on the view. "Ice will take care of it. I believe she is looking forward to taking care of it."

"Why are you here? I can't be all that important. Seamore tells me he hasn't seen either of you for several decades and a week ago she shows up, has dinner, makes small talk and leaves the next day. And now you show up out here to talk to me in circles."

"Well, Rube, the circles aren't of my making. Free will can tie knots into the simplest of events. I'm here to encourage you to move on. There are those who need you. These three are not among them. Make the best of what Fate has handed you, my friend."

And then Rube was alone. And Rube had a powerful itch to get back…now.


	11. Chapter 11 Ice

**11 Ice**

Rube was lucky to catch a ride back into Seattle from a farmer delivering canned fruits and vegetables to restaurants in downtown Seattle. The two hit it off and he dropped Rube in front of the boarding house, and even gave him a jar of beets.

He saw a couple of men he didn't know entering the house. Inside he found Penny, who told him that a Mr. Tong was coming with his two reapers to meet with Seamore, and there were other reapers showing up too, who wanted to witness this get together. Rube left the beets in the kitchen on the counter. He and Penny found Pauline in the backyard where there were at least a dozen people milling about most from Seamore's group. Pauline was talking to Marsha and Seamore. When Seamore saw him he called them both over. "How did it go?"

"Well, enough. All three went into the lights."

Seamore seemed to study him looking for something, but Rube guessed whatever he wanted to say he judged could wait. This meeting with Tong must be weighing on his mind.

Rube asked, "Who is this man coming over?"

"This is the transfer all the way from China I mentioned. He's very old as reapers go."

"And why would he want to meet?"

"I guess he wants to be neighborly." Seamore smiled, and motioned to Pauline to follow him. The two talked a bit out his hearing. He turned to Penny. She seemed to see this as an interesting diversion in an otherwise mostly boring day. But Henry had said enough to make him anxious.

Rube asked Penny, "What do you think this is about?"

"I've heard he screwed up in China and he was sent here to get a fresh start, but as soon as he got here, he started walking on the wrong side of the road."

"Why do you think he wants to meet?"

She shrugged. "Rube, my guess is that there's more going on here than meets the eye, but that's always the case, isn't it?"

"You mean that visit from Ice last week?" Rube ventured testing what Penny might come up with.

"Exactly. I heard she did not even pay a courtesy call on this Tong. My guess he's dying to know what she and Seamore discussed without his own eminence attending."

Rube said, "I guess Seamore isn't all that old as reapers go, while Tong is a lot older and in his mind more deserving of attention from one of the oldest over here."

"Exactly, Rube. I've heard he's at least a thousand years old. You'd think he'd know how to keep his nose clean by now. There they are now."

Tong strode into the back yard followed closely by a very young reaper who Rube knew was called Xie. This Xie seemed to be about 50 years of age, but he had only been a reaper for a year or two. The other older one, Jung, was not with them. Everyone cleared a space leaving Seamore standing alone to face Tong. Tong carried himself with head high. He wore Chinese robes, which was odd here in Seattle. He looked like he might have died in his late 30's maybe early 40's. Tong smiled as he approached and gave a slight nod of his head, and did not shake hands with Seamore. He said something in Chinese, and Seamore answered him in Chinese surprising Rube.

"Penny, how did Seamore learn to speak Chinese?"

"Over the years I'm sure he's reaped more than a few of the local Chinese."

Rube puzzled on that. Then Tong switched to flawless English. Rube again turned with his eyebrows raised to Penny, who gave him a look that made him feel slow. OK, maybe Tong had already reaped a few locals.

A few of the reapers brought chairs out and the two sat down still engaged in small talk.

Tong did not mention Ice or her visit. Instead he talked in circles about his organization in China and how when all cooperated all benefitted. It sounded to Rube like Tong thought he was sent to Seattle to help the backward reapers, or maybe he wanted his audience to think so. Seamore matched Tong skillfully, avoiding Rube thought the real topic.

Finally, Tong looked a bit over his shoulder. Rube noticed his other man, Jung, was approaching with…my God…with his daughter, Rosie, by the hand. Rube's spine felt ice cold. Henry knew this would happen. That's why he made sure Rube didn't sit on that cliff too long contemplating his navel.

"By the way, Mr. Seamore, I know one of your reapers has family in the area. Jung found this young daughter of his wandering about lost and I wanted to make sure she was delivered safe, before any harm could come to her."

Seamore looked a bit startled, but just for a moment. Perhaps he didn't know the detailed script for the meeting – the one Henry read from. He looked to Pauline and motioned. Pauline moved quickly towards the center, but Rosie as soon as she caught sight of Rube ran over to him.

"Papa"

"Rosie, are you alright? Did they hurt you?"

"I'm fine, Papa. That man said he would bring me to you."

Rube hugged her. Anger was rising. His daughter was being used. This was no favor, but a threat. Jung was the reaper that everyone suspected of ghosting Pauline when she was a little girl, and no one here would miss the connection. This Tong was making it clear there would be consequences if his friendship were not appreciated.

Rube heard the gathered reapers murmuring rise and then suddenly drop to nothing. Rube looked up and saw that Ice had appeared beside Seamore, carrying a small bag. Seamore stood in her presence. Now Tong looked startled and Jung, standing next to Tong, looked horrified. Tong composed himself and stood.

"Greetings, Ice. So glad you could come." This sounded as if Tong wanted her there, which Rube doubted.

All eyes focused on her and Tong now. Ice motioned to Pauline, who took the bag.

"Pauline, please take this and Rosie upstairs, and keep her away from the window. I will return her to her mother soon."

Penny and Rube exchanged a glance. Tong gave a little bow to Ice, grudgingly small.

"As you can see the girl is unharmed. I thought only to ensure her safety. And to bring to your attention a dangerous situation developing with this new reaper attempting to contact his living wife and daughter."

Ice did not respond. Only after Pauline and Rosie had entered the house did she deign to look back towards Tong. Tong took on a distressed look, as did Jung. Xie just looked like anywhere would be better than here. Ice did not look friendly, not at all, and she said, "So you brought her to meet her father directly."

Rube wasn't sure, but Tong and Jung both looked perplexed, as if they had tried to ghost away from a situation going from bad to worse, but discovered that they could not.

She looked as if she might be noticing their confusion at not being able to ghost. "You may not leave until I allow it. You will stay here until I dismiss you."

"You forbid me to leave?" Tong sounded genuinely offended.

"Yes." She walked up to them both. Rube was glad he was not facing that ice-cold stare. He found her snow-white eyes unnerving. Taken together her white hair and very pale complexion the effect gave her the look of a ghost, a real ghost. He wondered what she looked like to the living. She looked directly into Tong's eyes, and Rube from where he stood could see no mercy there at all. From where Tong was standing those eyes must look horrifying.

In a flash, Jung pulled a short sword from beneath his long loose shirt and tried to cut up through her neck. What he thought he might achieve with this, Rube did not know. Ice caught his right with her own right hand mid way in the upward sweep and with her left she grabbed behind his elbow and pulled them together breaking his wrist, and then in the next second applying more leverage and pressure she broke the arm. Jung screamed with the cracking. The breaking sound carried to everyone there, as did Jung's scream. She let him go keeping the short sword and returned her attention to Tong. Jung crumpled to the ground holding his arm. He recovered enough to stand up holding his arm, which probably was healing but painfully slowly.

She said, "Yes, I forbid you to leave." She put emphasis on the word forbid.

Tong's face seemed to Rube as if he knew this would not end well.

Ice smiled. Henry had said she was looking forward to dealing with this situation. She turned back to Jung. "I warned you did I not?"

Jung looked up but did not answer.

"After Pauline, I warned you that I would return if you did not behave. And what happened but a few days after this Mr. Tong showed up?"

"I did nothing to the girl. She's unharmed." He stood up facing Ice. Taking courage from the fact that unlike Pauline he did not ghost Rosie, Rube suspected and was relieved.

A slight trace of hope showed in Tong's face. "Really, Ice, you are overreacting. No harm came to the girl, as you saw. I came to visit my new neighbor and as I said when we discovered this new reaper here was plotting to contact his wife and daughter, we only thought to act in the best interests of everyone and bring this unfortunate transgression to the attention of Mr. Seamore." He nodded briefly in Rube's direction perhaps hoping to draw the focus of her anger toward him.

For a moment Rube worried that the focus of Ice's anger would in fact shift his way. The Chinaman was a smooth talker backed by a thousand years of experience, and Rube stood guilty as charged. Somehow they had observed his goings on. The Chinaman up to a point was not lying. But, Ice did not look Rube's way. Rube knew the point of bringing Rosie was to make a not so subtle threat to ensure Seamore would cooperate in whatever Tong had planned. And evidently Ice did too.

In a move faster than Rube could follow she cut Jung's belly open in an upward sweep of her arm. One moment she was standing still, and then the next she was holding the short sword over her head and Jung was falling to the ground. She carefully placed the sword down on the ground and then reached into the open wound with her left hand, grabbed hold of his guts, and pulled. With her right she took hold of his throat lifting him up and then throwing his body some twenty feet. Jung landed hard trailing his intestines the whole way back to Ice, who had not let go. Two women and a man had to jump out of way. Jung was flailing frantically trying to hold onto his insides. Yes, he was undead and could not be killed, but he could feel pain every bit as much as someone alive – maybe more because he couldn't die. Between this and until he healed he would have to endure a lot of agony because as with Jerry Ice would not allow anyone to ghost most especially Tong and Jung and Xie.

Seamore stood watching with a stone face. Most of the others had expressions in various expressions of horror. Most had never seen anything like this, ever. Rube could see Penny was pale. Marsha's eyes and mouth were wide open. Jerry smiled, happy that this time it wasn't him on the receiving end of Ice's attention.

Ice walked over to Jung dragging his innards with her through the grass. She touched him and stood back. His parts most separated from him, his intestines, began to turn into a fine dust. This cascaded from one part to the next until the whole of him was nothing but dust with just his clothes piled on top of his shoes on the lawn.

Ice turned back to Tong. Tong looked momently panicked, but again composed himself. His face did not show any hope. There was no escape and his face showed his understanding. She was the manifestation of Death itself to Rube. Henry had come to Rube in Death's more friendly guise. This Ice woman walked showing the face of the executioner bringing justice without mercy. Rube was sure that this demonstration here this afternoon would keep all who observed it on the straight and narrow. Reapers looked upon the gateway, those lights, to something better every day. That other better place was not something promised by a priest, but something concrete in their every day experience. And it seemed evident that getting turned to dust ended the chance of ending up there. Take your pick. Follow the pathway handed to you by Fate, and get your own lights someday, or refuse to cooperate, and discover that there are worse fates.

Ice picked up Jung's shirt and the scabbard. She wiped her hands on the shirt and walked back to the sword. After she wiped the sword she returned it to the scabbard. Now she looked at Tong, who at the return of her eyes lifted his chin just a bit. He was not a coward. Rube guessed he had been shown mercy, had been warned, and he chose to push boundaries, and now the consequence of those choices stood before him. He was old, had seen a lot, and would face his end without flinching.

Rube expected a speech or more talk, and was afraid the bastard would talk his way out of this predicament. But Ice was not big on speeches, giving or receiving. She let her actions speak for her.

She touched Tong and he followed Jung into oblivion. She turned to Rube. Everyone knew now about his own transgressions, what he was specifically warned not to do by Seamore, and Rube, oddly, felt unafraid. Let it come. He would have liked to be able to tell his wife, Lucy, how sorry he was for what he had done, what he had taken from them both. He most of all would have liked to tell that little boy whose life he had taken, how sorry he was for stealing his entire future from him with his stupid choices, but…no.

Ice walked up to face him directly and Rube found himself looking into those eyes himself. She extended the sword to him. "Here's a keepsake. For you, Rube. Something to remind you to make better choices in the future."

Maybe there was room for mercy after all. She looked over towards Xie. "Xie."

He stepped forward.

She said, "You are now part of Mr. Seamore's group."

Then she was gone. She disappeared from the sight of a crowd of reapers.

Rube wanted to go to Rosie, but Seamore motioned him back. Penny seeing this caught Rube's eye and she went on into the house on his behalf. She told him later that Ice changed into clean clothes from the bag she brought. She talked until Rosie was comfortable with her and then the two walked out of the house and down the street.


	12. Chapter 12 Marsha Makes Her Move

**12 Marsha Makes Her Move**

Rube snuck a glance at Seamore. Seamore stood to the side out of the way of the shovelfuls of dirt flying out of the hole and he looked a lot like a volcano just before the top blew off. If he had ever actually seen a volcano blow its top, this would be it. Rube had not known the man long but he seemed extraordinarily patient, most of the time. After Ice handed Rube that sword, Seamore had said not a word to Rube regarding his attempted transgression with his family. Ice had spoken. What could he add?

Earlier in the evening, over dinner, Marsha dropped into the middle of their meal the revelation that she had not reaped her target the two days before. The man had been buried yesterday afternoon with his soul still inside the body. Seamore put his glass down and placed his elbows on the table and his hands under his chin as he studied her. Everyone else at the table froze in place. Some looked at Marsha. Others gave shared attention to both. Seamore's eyes drilled into Marsha. Rube noticed that his senior, Penny, looked shocked. It had never occurred to Rube not to follow through with a reap. And why Marsha might have chosen not to do hers was well beyond him. Marsha stood up and moved to the sitting room. Seamore followed. The usual congenial dinnertime atmosphere was shattered. Only a few tried to continue and finish their food. Several got up and followed Seamore and stood nearby. No one thought to sit. Penny went in and stood near Marsha not to defend her, but the better to hear and observe, Rube thought. He followed her.

Oddly Marsha seemed calm, even when Seamore informed her that they would have to go that night to dig up the poor man so Marsha could let his soul escape from the corpse. He glared at Marsha. He explained in a voice edging towards an angry roar, that if a soul was not disconnected from the dead body it would stay there trapped until the body had rotted enough so it could pull away on its own. That could take years and people trapped that way inside a corpse, stuck in a coffin, buried six feet underground, in the dark, unable to move tended to go stark raving mad, as one would expect. Once they were free they were insane and their souls took on the appearance of the rotting mass they had just escaped. Then it would take a strong reaper to seize them and heal the soul to the point it could cross over. Their purpose as reapers was to make sure that such things never happened. He ended with a not too subtle threat, at least to Rube's ears, that there were consequences for this kind of transgression that he, Seamore, could not protect her, or any of them, from.

She watched him speak with her head held high. When he finished she said she needed some fresh air and turned away and left for a walk. Seamore did not try to stop her. He shook his head. Pauline came up and patted him on his shoulder and pulled him to his chair. She placed his pipe and tobacco in front of him, but he was too upset to consider a smoke.

Marsha had returned well before the departure time for the cemetery.

Seamore tried, just before they started digging, to get Marsha to ghost down into the earth and do the deed, but Rube knew even before he opened his mouth that would be wasted effort. The woman didn't believe she was dead, that she was a reaper, and certainly did not believe she could ghost. She thought Rube was crazy when he mentioned his recent experience. Rube was excited about his first time and told Penny and Marsha about it in detail. Penny smiled probably remembering her first time, but Marsha openly scoffed telling him not to be silly. He was imagining things.

And so they dug. Rube, Tim, and Jerry rotated with two shovels as they moved the fresh earth back out of the grave. Penny, acting as lookout, stood next to Marsha and Seamore. Penny also acted as a dampener for flare-ups between Marsha and Seamore. The two couldn't be more different. One was an ex Civil War soldier and farmer from the South, a Negro, and the other a young Anglo-Saxon woman from a rich upper crust family in New York. Rube had found reapers, mostly, pretty accepting and flexible. He figured dying had a lot to do with that. Rube thought that Seamore had been extraordinarily patient with Marsha given her stubborn refusal at every turn to cooperate. Rube didn't believe anyone could get her to cooperate though, because Rube didn't think she was right in the head. Proof Death was not infallible to Rube.

Then a flash went off catching Rube and momentarily blinding him. They stopped digging. Two men showed themselves along with what looked to be a uniformed police officer. The two men revealed they were reporters for the Seattle newspaper. They greeted Marsha, who it soon was revealed had told one of them about a planned grave robbing by men who regarded themselves as collectors of souls, grim reapers, and they, not being fools and at Marsha's urging, brought along the police for the actual midnight confrontation with the alleged criminals, or grim reapers.

Seamore seemed nonplussed. "Keep digging boys." He turned to the police officer, who stepped closer to Seamore. "Can I help you, Officer?"

The policeman looked sheepish. Marsha looked pleased with herself as she stood with the two reporters. "It seems that this young lady informed this reporter…a Mr. Jacobson that a crime would be committed tonight. And it does seem to be odd that you would be digging a grave up in the middle of the night."

"Well, Officer. The name's Seamore. And we've been commissioned by the mortuary that did the work on behalf of the City to dig this grave back up to retrieve something at the family's request."

Seamore handed the officer a document. The officer looked it over and handed it back. "OK, then. Seems like we all got out of bed over nothing gentlemen. Everything is in order."

Even from where Rube was standing Rube could see the younger of the two reporters was smitten with the attractive, obviously well educated, well spoken, young Marsha. Probably the real reason, the only reason, they had taken her seriously about grim reapers robbing a grave.

Marsha was down, but not ready to give up yet. "Mr. Jacobson. Please everything I told you is true. This mortuary story is nonsense. There is no commission from the family. Please stay."

Mr. Jacobson looked back, tipped his cap, and walked off with his companion leaving the police officer alone with the little grave-robbing group.

Seamore watched them leave and when they were out of earshot he turned to the police officer and said, "Thanks, Ted."

"No problem, Charles. Anytime. Do you want me to hang around?"

"I think we got it. You get back to bed. Thanks again for the heads up. The paper was a good idea."

And he left. Marsha looked crestfallen. Her little scheme had fallen apart. This was at least the fourth time Rube was aware of that she had actively not cooperated with her assigned reap. And this was the worst. She had actually told someone alive what they were. That they didn't believe her wasn't for her lack of trying, or for her lack of imagination.

The three of them kept to their digging as the drama continued above.

Seamore, the volcano, erupted. "You told them about us. You gave them your former name. Are you insane, woman?"

Marsha looked with no little distain and said, "You are a gang of criminals. I am no more dead than those two reporters or you for that matter."

Seamore said, "You are dead. Dead. Dead."

Marsha's tempered flared. "Poppycock. I'm living, breathing, and I miss my son. You and your gang kidnapped me from my home. God knows why. That's a more logical explanation than that I died and I'm supposed to collect souls - in Seattle of all places. All it does is rain here. If I died then this is Hell itself."

Seamore steadied himself. Rube doubted Seamore had been forced to confront this extreme a delusion before. Rube knew that Marsha really did have trouble remembering her own death. Penny had learned that she hadn't really attended her own funeral. She just pretended she had when meeting other new reapers talking about their own funerals. She had some sort of fever just before dying and then her reaper escort hadn't felt it necessary to force her to attend her own funeral. Rube guessed her reaper handler was overly impressed with the high social standing of his charge. This was a major mistake in hindsight. All new reapers had to attend their own funeral. Nothing drove home the reality of your own death as witnessing your own funeral, your relatives and friends not being able to see or hear you, as they put you behind them and your body in a grave. He knew Penny had told Seamore the truth. So who to blame? Should she be excused because the reaper in New York failed in his duties, or should Marsha be made to bear the full measure of consequences for her failure to comprehend and cooperate? Rube knew one thing. There was one terrified man down below in the dark earth trapped inside his body and unable to leave. He was definitely getting consequences he did not deserve no matter who sat in judgment.

Seamore said, "You have been called by God Almighty to perform this task. You cannot say no."

And now Marsha erupted yet again. "God had nothing to do with it. What kind of God would take me away from my baby, take me all the way across the country, and force me to exist among - heathen - criminals? Because that's what you all are. I saw that demon witch with the white eyes kill those men yesterday. All they did was bring back that little lost girl, and she killed them both. I told those reporters about all that too."

Seamore said no more to Marsha. Penny took her aside until they had the box open.

Penny said, "Marsha. Now reap the man."

Marsha was adding to her sins by refusing to cooperate. "I am not going to touch that dead body."

Seamore was remarkably calm. "Marsha. There is a soul locked in that body. It can see and hear everything, but it can't get out until the body fully decomposes. By that time he will be insane, utterly insane, and likely never be able to cross into any lights without major intervention. It'll be too late for him."

Rube came over. He doubted he could make it worse. "Marsha. I know you don't believe what's happened, but do you think we would go to all this trouble if it wasn't really important that you do this? I know you got lost in your own situation. But I know I died, Marsha. Penny died, she remembers everything. All of us here remember what happened to each of us. We all had lives that ended. I know you don't want to be here. Not one of us asked to be here, but we are. I know how you feel about your baby son. That lost girl the other day was my daughter. She's alive just blocks away and I can't be with her or my wife." Rube paused looked around at Penny, Seamore, Tim, and even Jerry, who looked solemn for once. "You have to find a way to do this."

Marsh met his eyes and said, "Or what, Rube? What if I say no?"

"I don't know what will happen to you. Honestly, I don't, Marsha, but I'm sure it will not be good. I don't know if it's God or some other power that waylaid us after death and put us here, but I do know we have to find a way to do this. And you're right, Marsha, we all feel the blood pumping and we breathe, so let's give thanks that we have this small opportunity being handed to us to enjoy what we can among the living. Now, I know you're used to some fancy living in New York, and had a different life planned out with your little boy and your husband, and it doesn't seem fair, but things are what they are. Come on, just reap the poor guy and let his soul out." Rube smiled. "You know, I believe Pauline still has some of that apple pie you like back home."

Marsha came to some decision and took a tentative few steps towards the open grave to look inside. Tim and Jerry stepped up to help her get down into the hole, but Rube moved in front of Jerry. He was afraid Jerry would spoil the hard won mood of cooperation achieved by doing something he thought of as being friendly, but that Marsha would see very differently.

They helped her down and Marsha touched the man's arm and got back out. The soul was out before she had left the hole. Rube realized that in all the stress no one seemed to remember the man's name. Penny took over walking the man away and within a few minutes his lights appeared. They quickly filled the hole back up and were on their way home. Penny walked talking with Marsha. But otherwise no one said much.

At home Rube, Tim, and Jerry took some wet washcloths from Pauline and wiped some of the grime and sweat off. The pie was forgotten. It was late, and sleep was the priority.

That night Rube sat up in bed with a start as he became aware of some God awful shrieking. It was early morning by the clock. He looked out and it was still black. It was coming from Penny and Marsha's room. They all jumped up and left the room to see Marsha running down the stairs followed by Penny followed by a black something lacking a defined shape moving after them. Marsha retreated to a far corner of the sitting room with Penny close behind her. Soon everyone in the house was up. The thing was in front of Marsha and Penny doing nothing but doing it in a menacing way. A few reapers were now watching from downstairs in the kitchen. Most were at the top of the stairs including Seamore. Rube looked to him. "Seamore, what is that?"

Without looking away Seamore said, "It's a consequence. It comes for reapers who don't make good choices."

After a few more moments the black shape moved onto Marsha cutting short her final scream and they were both gone.

Seamore looked resigned. "It's over. Let's all get to bed."

The older reapers all moved off. Rube suspected they knew this could happen and were now shuffling off back to bed and sleep. Penny looked unsteady as she climbed the stairs where Rube was standing.

She stopped at the top. Her eyes were wide and her voice unsteady. "It waited till we were all watching, and then it took her."

"What was it?"

"I think, Rube, there are worse fates than this one."


	13. Chapter 13 Jerry Out Betty In

**13 Jerry Out Betty In**

Rube and Jerry were driving well outside of Seattle to undertake a special reap. Jerry was to reap a B. Rhomer, who would replace Jerry as a reaper in Seamore's group. Seamore and all the other reapers were occupied with their own nearby reaps so Rube got selected by default to accompany Jerry on his final reap.

This reap was well outside of Seattle. Seamore had talked to a friend nearby who loaned them an automobile, a green 1922 Franklin sedan. Jerry had more experience than Rube with driving, but Rube figured he would have to drive back so he drove out. So far he had been able to stay on his side of the road. It was cloudy and raining off and on so the road was wet and slippery. Good thing they were already dead. The nice green automobile was actually at more risk than either of them.

Rube had been rooming with Jerry, but never really could say he liked the man. Rube got along well enough with Jerry as Rube did with most people. But here they were together and this was the man's last day on Earth, so Rube tried to help him. Jerry was excited and more talkative than usual. Rube had found Jerry preoccupied with one thing and only one thing ever since he met the man.

"So Jerry, you mentioned once you died back around the time of the Revolutionary War. You must have had some quota to fill."

"Rube, there's no quota. If there was I would've blown through it years ago."

"So how do you get to go into the lights?"

"I don't know, Rube. Maybe they got tired of waiting for me to grow up."

"That woman, Ice, seems to have been around a very long time." Rube regretted bringing Ice up as soon as he said her name. Jerry's encounter with her must be among his bad memories.

"Like I said, I don't think there's a quota. Most reapers go sooner than me, but a few like her stay around forever. Why? I don't know. Those old ones keep to themselves, anyway."

Time to change the subject. He must've had some good times way back then. "What's your best memory from life, Jerry?"

Jerry looked off a while and then surprised Rube. "My best memory is my last."

Rube laughed. "What? You mean when you died?"

"Yeah, Rube. I was with this really nice older and very experienced woman, the wife of my neighbor."

That figured. That would be Jerry.

"Her husband came home a few days earlier than expected. He shot her and put a tomahawk in my back. She got lights. I got to become a reaper. She was the best and the last of my life."

They arrived at the designated early reap point and found a family reunion going on, a large family gathering at a park next to a river. The weather was chilly with a drizzle rain. This time for this out of town reap Rube brought water, sandwiches, and a raincoat with a hood. The gathering had tables of food laid out under awnings and open tents, and in between the occasional wet from above the people were mingling. These Seattle natives Rube was learning didn't let a little rain get in the way of life.

No one bothered them as they entered and mingled. A few questions and with Jerry's experience, they knew who the lucky winner would be. A young woman named Betty Rhomer. He and Tim would have some more room. It pained him to think she would replace Marsha in Penny's room. Rube studied her from a distance. She seemed nice enough, and friendly, and young. At least she wasn't about to give birth. Why her? What had she done, or not done to deserve becoming a reaper? Maybe her timing was bad. Jerry's departure appointment had come up and she was going to die today, so we have a winner. He didn't know.

Jerry was Jerry. As Rube watched he reaped her at the desert table, not by touching her arm or shoulder. No, Jerry couldn't resist testing her bottom regions. The girl was startled, and Jerry smiled at her as he walked away to rejoin Rube. "Nice bottom on that one, Rube."

Rube let it go. What was the use? Jerry was Jerry. He wondered what would happen to him on the other side. He would feel up the Blessed Virgin Mary if the opportunity arose, but. "Jerry, it's been an honor to know you. Don't be shy. Send us a letter."

"Rube, thanks for coming out here with me. Before you go, I want to leave something with you." He removed an envelope from his coat and extended it to Rube. "It's my savings. I can't take it with me, so enjoy it."

"Well, thanks, Jerry. I appreciate this."

"Spend it foolishly, Rube. Now, let's go down to where the switch will happen. She's about to leave with that young fella there. Maybe he throws her over the cliff. It's too damn cold to swim." Jerry got excited when he noticed the couple had changed into swimsuits. He would have gone for another reap but for Rube's dissuasion. Rube headed down with Jerry to the spot on the riverbank where she was to die. What were they going to do? It was really cold.

Seamore had explained to them that at the moment the reap died Jerry's lights would appear somewhere not too far away. Jerry was to go in. Rube was to collect the new reaper, Betty he now knew, and return her to Seattle, and they would deal with her funeral details later. The funeral could be some distance away since they didn't know where this new reaper was coming from. They just knew now where she was to die.

The man didn't throw her at all. They ran together through the woods overlooking the river. She jumped. He didn't, so it was just her hitting the water and dying.

Rube introduced himself at the bottom. It wasn't until she saw her body float by that she understood that she had died. Dying didn't bother Betty in the least. She jumped right into being a reaper and looked only forward.

Rube figured she would be popular with the guys at the house over the next few days. Poor Betty was stuck wearing her swimsuit until her body was in the ground. At least she wouldn't feel the cold.


	14. Chapter 14 Rube Lapses

**14 Rube Lapses**

Rube stood outside the Church again. He wasn't sure why he had come back. The late November weather was cold. There would be no sun today. The edifice did not appear so impressive today. He climbed the stone steps and entered through the heavy doors. Somehow after seeing the gateway to the other side, the lights, this pathetic display had nothing for him anymore. He walked down the aisle and stood before the steps leading up to the altar.

A priest saw him standing alone, and approached. "You seem troubled my son."

This was the same one who had counseled Lucy to stay away from him. Rube looked into his eyes. Rube said, "What kind of God would allow so much pain and suffering of so many innocents?"

The priest looked about to speak, but stopped when Rube's raised hand. "It was a rhetorical question, Father. Please, don't trouble yourself."

The Father said, "What is your name, my son. Maybe we should talk."

Rube looked at this living man standing before him. This man who purported to represent the divine. "My name?" Rube was supposed to give his new name to any of the living, but pondered those boundaries a moment, and what he might get away with. There was nothing to gain, but...sometimes it felt good to push on boundaries. "Rube. Rube Sofer."

The priest's face betrayed his lost composure. Rube smiled just a bit and said, "You have a good day, Father, and, I hope, sincerely I hope, you find a better afterlife than the one I have been handed. Goodbye."

The Priest was not God, but it felt good to thumb his nose at his representative. He had had enough. He looked to his left and seeing a side door walked toward it. There was nothing more to say to this God that had deserted him and left his family to suffer. He did not look back. He walked to the post office. He had prepared an envelope addressed to Rosie. Inside was all the cash Jerry had left him with a short note that read: Rosie, this is for you and your mother. He mailed it and left.

It was too dangerous to play games trying to fool Death, God, or whatever. He would no longer risk his daughter or his wife. Henceforth he resolved to stay away, from all of them, and work on his quota or whatever.


	15. Chapter 15 Waffle Haus Routine

**15 Waffle Haus Routine**

Seattle, Washington

Waffle Haus

Morning

October

2013

George and Mason walked into the Waffle Haus. She could feel multiple reaps coming and knew it would break into her workday. Rube and Daisy were seated at the booth with coffee sharing a newspaper. Daisy was touching up her makeup looking into her little compact mirror. They slid in as Kiffany approached.

"Orders?"

George looked over her shoulder. "I feel like oatmeal with raisins and cinnamon, Kiffany. Kiffany, why are you smiling? It's too early."

"Stars are aligning, Sweetie, that's all."

George didn't know how to take that so she didn't try. It was just too early.

Mason said, "A muffin, and some coffee. Thanks."

Daisy looked Mason over and wrinkled her nose. "Did you shower this morning?" She put away her compact.

George had dragged Mason's butt out of bed this morning and into the clothes he wore the day before and probably the day before that so she knew for a fact he did not shower.

Daisy turned to George. "Georgia, did he shower?"

"Daisy, please do not put me in the middle." George picked a newspaper section, looked around, and turned to Rube. "No Roxy?"

Rube didn't look up from his page. "She's busy at the station."

"Ya know, Rube, we're a little short-handed here. Not that I'm complaining."

"Peanut, you never complain. And we are busy today." Rube pulled out his book, opened it and thumped postits in front of each. He got one for himself, Mason one, Daisy another, and George five. He laid each one in front of her with a little thunking sound one after the other in a nice row.

"Five, Rube. Five?"

"Peanut, you've got one early this morning. Daisy, looks like yours is in a back alley. Doesn't look pretty. Then George, you've got four with Mason's one all together at the same location late this morning. That's a bad neighborhood. Could be an opportunity. I want you to check it out well before. Daisy, if she sees a need for you be ready to step in and help. Questions?" George had question all over her face. "Look, Peanut, they're all in one place." Rube tapped four, one after another.

"Rube, four are in one place."

"Good to see you're on top of your game. Mason. Mason. You really do need a shower."


	16. Chapter 16 Joy and Reggie

**16 Joy and Reggie**

Not far away on the same morning Reggie was running a bit late. Oatmeal with raisins and cinnamon would taste perfect this morning, but she didn't have much time. Did they even have any left?

Downstairs Joy was getting her own breakfast ready before she went off to work.

"Mom, do we have any oatmeal left?"

"Oatmeal. You haven't eaten oatmeal in a long time." Joy got up and opened a cupboard. She pulled a box down. "This is way past expired."

"It's OK. I'll get some later." Reggie grabbed a cereal box and opened the refrigerator for milk and sat down.

"Do you need a ride?" Joy put a bowl and spoon in front of her.

"Grace is coming."

"You two have classes together today?"

"We do, and we'll be meeting a professor today too, and then she'll drop me off."

Joy stiffened. "Which professor?"

She should have said nothing. "The one you don't like, Mom."

"Really, Reggie, do you have to take classes from that woman?"

"If I want to graduate on time I do and she's our advisor." Reggie could understand her Mother's bug about her friendship with this professor, but she still liked Charlotte. "Grace and I will be meeting her this afternoon."


	17. Chapter 17 George's Suicide

**17 George's Suicide**

In her red mustang on the way to her early morning reap George called Delores to let her know she would not be in today, but she confirmed she would drop by to her house early evening.

She drove by the building where the death was to take place. She could feel her reap inside. Good she wouldn't have a moving target. It complicated matters when the death happened on the move. When she got really lucky the reap would be inside their own apartment and anchored to the very spot they would die. And she might be very lucky today.

She parked a few blocks from the building on a less seedy street than the building where her reap would die and walked over. So hopefully her car would be there, in one piece, when she got back.

The walk wasn't long but the decline in property values steep. She could see the building. It was once a hotel, but now didn't even aspire. It's clientele paid by the week. A good candidate for renovation and then with some better marketing maybe the units could be sold upscale. Or, not, she stepped over a few bodies still very much alive. This neighborhood would need more than good marketing. The alley next to it had overflowing garbage bins. The smell wasn't as bad as it would be in warmer weather. Nice positive spin. Actually, she remembered now. Her own first apartment was not far from here. She stood outside on the sidewalk checking her address. No one paid her any notice at all. She could still feel the presence of her reap up inside this building, still in place. She entered. There was no security, and, of course, no working elevator either. She climbed the stairs stepping back out of way of several people who did not acknowledge her presence. On the fifth floor she found the apartment. In front of the door, she stood reading the eviction notice just put up, looked both ways and seeing no one, ghosted inside. She still had an hour, but it never hurt to get ahead of things.

The place was in pretty good shape, better than the outside of the building suggested. It was clean and didn't have the smell that seemed to want to escape from a few of the doors on this floor. She found her reap in the tiny kitchen sitting staring at a pistol on the table. OK, we don't need to puzzle how this one will end.

She stood behind the guy and reaped him. He stirred, agitated and looked behind and then around. He felt something. Not an uncommon reaction. Likely he felt the disconnection on some level of his soul from his body, or maybe he just got a premonition of death he was seeking.

She started her inspection, checking for opportunities. She peeked over his shoulder and found open letters from bill collectors, past due. He was a Thomas, Tom. Some divorce papers. Looked like he was reviewing how he got to this end himself. Not likely there would be anything she could pick up. If there were he wouldn't be staring at that gun. She stood watching him. He became agitated again and looked around perhaps sensing her focus on him. There was a connection between them now. Seeing nothing he again settled back to his meditation on the gun.

She had no inclination to watch the end or engage the man in small talk. Her back seat was piled high with old tops and a few really nice coats stained by the blood smears of past reaps. Someday she would find the holy grail of dry cleaners and remedy that. But with Daisy around. Daisy had few interests. One was the male gender, not as an object of study, but as prey. George saw her as a highly evolved predator specializing in hunting men with more money than self-control. And then her other focus was shopping for clothes. Daisy had taught her a lot about both, but it did mean George kept putting off the search for a good dry cleaners.

George left the man and ghosted down into a deep shadow in the alley and reappeared. She regretted taking on the physical in this particular spot. The smell of garbage and urine was too much, and when she saw a coffee shop across the street she took that option. She walked across the street to wait this one out with a newspaper and coffee.

At about 5 minutes before the appointed time she was standing back in the alley. Their connection now pulled him to her and he appeared on time, dazed, asking what they most all do. "Am I dead?"

"Mr. Gunderson?" She liked to start with a name. It always helped them to settle down.

"Yes. Who are you?" He looked at her, blinked and struggled to focus as if he had just stepped into bright light.

"My name is George. You died. And, I am your reaper." She smiled. "I'm here to help you get where you're going, Mr. Gunderson."

He looked a bit worried. Most suicides did. "And where might that be?"

George furrowed her brow, just a little. She didn't want to overdo it, here, after all. "Well, these things can go either way." But she didn't have all day. And if she wasn't careful she could end up talking therapy with this guy for hours. She wasn't about to let him wander off going rogue. What would be would be and she intended he be off into his lights on her schedule not his. She had long ago decided it probably didn't make much difference to them, but it sure made a difference to her.

"Either way?" His worry ticked up a notch. Suicides were so easy. She could already tell that whatever this guy did or did not do in life, he wasn't going to be taken by the Dark. That would have already happened, but sometimes these guys could start going over their whole life, in great detail. Rube was right. This was not touched by any angel here. Her job was to get them over, one way or another, and they could not take anything with them.

"Yes, either way, but I know that although your life wasn't perfect, you're really a pretty good guy." George closed her eyes. "Am I right, Mr. Gunderson?"

"George?"

"Yes?"

"You can call me, Tom."

"Are you flirting with your reaper, Mr. Gunderson?" She opened her eyes. She knew very well he wasn't. She had yet to meet a man who had sex on his mind right after spreading his brains out on the kitchen wall, but it helped to keep them off guard. She did not want him to start negotiating for something he imagined he needed done. Once they got started on that shit, there was no end. Better to keep them focused on the need to get into their lights. "Because that last little act on your part may have tipped the scales too far in the wrong direction. You certainly don't want to add to that side of the scales now, do you, Mr. Gunderson?"

"No. No. Farthest thing from my mind. Really, George. Really. No offense. You're very attractive and all, but..."

She closed her eyes again. "Take my hand." He did and she exerted a calming influence over his soul. She knew this would speed the process up…a lot. She let his hand go.

"What are you doing, George?" He sounded more relaxed.

"Mr. Gunderson, I am interceding with higher powers, trying to make sure you go to a better place, if you know what I mean." She also knew he had no idea what she meant.

"Oh, please do."

She opened her eyes. "Look around. If things go your way, if I was successful you should see a light appear. You know the one you're supposed to walk into. Look around, Mr. Gunderson." And right on cue, his lights began to take shape, and within a minute or so he was gone, and George was already walking towards her car.


	18. Chapter 18 Daisy in Skidrow

**18 Daisy in Skidrow**

Rube and Daisy doubled up. Rube drove his truck and parked within a few blocks of their reaps, which were not that far apart in time or by address. Rube's was a simple hit and run in a cross walk, and his reap passed over without problem.

Daisy left Rube in a little 24 hour diner across the street. Her reap was in an area frequented by the homeless, and many were just rousing themselves. She walked down a few blocks passing by several boarded up windows and people sleeping in doors and in alleys. No one paid her any attention. When she wanted to be noticed by men she would be, but now she did not. She could feel her reap just ahead and around the corner in a dark alley. She walked to the front of the alley and stopped. The morning sun was far from reaching inside and it was difficult to make anything out. There was a garbage bin and she could see what appeared to be back doors. She walked down the center stepping around an overturned garbage can. And then, there her reap was just behind a bin probably passed out or maybe just sleeping. She had about 10 minutes. Rube's reap delayed her more than she liked, but this would work out just fine. Suddenly a man backing away from behind another bin bumped into her. He turned and looked her straight in the eyes. His eyes moved up, and down, and then he looked around. He reeked of God knows what and hadn't been close to water in weeks.

"Honey, you all alone, are you?"

Daisy willed herself into not being noticed, but he was too close and too focused on her. He grabbed her arm at the elbow.

Daisy reached with her other hand into his chest touched his soul, shook it a bit and pushed him about 10 feet down the way where he fell hard. She stepped aside and again willed herself into not being noticed, and this time it worked. The man looked up and around bewildered. He picked himself up, cursed, and moved on down the alley. She was glad she didn't have to ghost. She just hated ghosting herself. It made her feel like she was pregnant in a bad way or worse.

She found her reap just in time. Poor woman. After reaping her she moved well away. She watched as a third man murdered her using a knife, checked her pockets, and left her to bleed out.

The woman appeared next to Daisy ready to move on. This existence had been a hell and she entered her lights without any hesitation.

Daisy wanted to wash her hands. Maybe that diner would have a sink. And maybe then Rube could drop her off somewhere for some shopping before she had to meet George for her and Mason's reaps.


	19. Chapter 19 George in Charge

**19 George in Charge**

"Rube, right there. There's her little red car. They must be close."

Rube was a tad bit irritated with her shopping detour. She had talked him into going with her. He got that way when he felt used as a taxi. And she suspected he would drop and go, no lingering.

Rube's truck pulled up in front of Georgia's car. Daisy got out and waved as Rube pulled away. Daisy, feeling fresh, walked up to George and Mason. "So what's the situation?"

They were standing on the sidewalk near an alley entrance.

George said, "My four are inside, three men and a woman. Looks like they've been in there for several days. They're heavily armed. Right now they're watching TV and screwing in a makeshift bedroom on the left of the front room. Mason's guy hasn't shown himself yet. Probably one of those who kill these four, but that's a guess, and I'm going to vote on a real opportunity situation. These four are hiding keeping a low profile."

Daisy watched Mason as she listened to George, "Mason, don't you feel better?" Daisy noticed that Mason had stumbled into a shower sometime this morning and found some clean clothes since breakfast. Mason looked like he was in pain. Daisy had been keeping him on a short leash.

"OK, listen, the first guy down will be just inside the door. That will be Mason's reap. There are two ways inside, this one here, and then through the front. The front is boarded up and locked, so it's likely they'll all come through this way."

"What do you want me to do?" Daisy was getting excited by the promise of action and even more by the thought of easy money, which to her meant more shopping.

"First make sure Mason gets his reap done on the way in and well before the door. Act as a diversion as necessary. Second, I need to stay ghosted inside and close to what's going on until all are dead and gone. So I'm going to send the souls out to you. Keep them busy and Daisy this is the important part—."

"I know, find out where they hid their good stuff."

"And Mason, take your guy off separately. Maybe he knows something we can track down elsewhere. Don't let anyone cross over anywhere till I can get back. OK?"

Both Mason and Daisy nodded.

"And keep an eye on my car."

They didn't wait long. Two cars pulled up down the alley and one at this end. A total of eight men got out. A couple took up positions at either end of the alley, while the other six approached the back alley door.

"That's my guy. His name is Jameson, T. Jameson." Mason pointed to the guy in front just out of the nearer car.

Daisy moved in with Mason close behind. Daisy walked up to Jameson and almost ran into him. "Mr. Jameson? Fancy bumping into you out here."

T. Jameson stopped in his tracks, bringing the other five to a halt. All eyes were now on Daisy. Daisy reached out taking the startled man by the arm. He hesitated. He couldn't recognize her, but he wasn't about to admit that up front and let a chance with a gorgeous babe like this slip by. The others wanted to see how the drama played out. No one noticed Mason execute his reap.

Daisy whispered something in the guy's ear and moved off turning back to give him a smile loaded with promise. Daisy and Mason retreated to the shadows and turned down their noticeability.

"George has come a long way," Mason said looking at the door the six men were approaching.

"How so?" Daisy looked after them too.

"Right after she became a reaper I took her to a site with tortured dead bodies all over. Just the sight turned her pale as ghost."

"And here she is watching them die. Well, at least ghosting she won't get any blood on her top. She really needs to learn to stand farther back or stay ghosted."

Inside George waited. The couple in the backroom on the bed were winding down or at least the bed stopped its creaking. The knock at the door brought everyone up as the two in front of the TV reached for weapons. The backroom man came out pulling his belt together and without a shirt. He picked up a pistol and motioned for one of the TV duo to go to the door.

Jameson and his crew talked their way inside, but things went bad quickly. Jameson died up front and was already outside with Mason. The crew though got control quickly. The TV duo guy was next, shot as an example, and probably lucky at that. He was the one who shot Jameson just inside the door. George pulled him to the outside through the wall, showed him 'that pretty lady over there' and he went willingly enough. The Jameson crew lacked in preparation but they made up by improvising with what they had on hand, knives and a pair of pliers they found in the kitchen, to interrogate the remaining three. George listened closely and based on clues she overheard and to occupy her time searched the place always keeping within earshot of the questioning. As each died she sent them out to Daisy and Mason. She was surprised that the woman got off without getting used on the bed, but then after they questioned her with the knife no one showed any interest. These guys just didn't think too far ahead. On her own, George found one hidden cache of money and probably stolen jewels, which she didn't move. They seemed safe behind a few loose bricks in a closet wall behind some heavy crates. Not surprisingly the Jameson crew extracted information – not surprising at all what you're willing to reveal when someone goes to work with a knife – but she guessed that her first reap owned this stuff behind the closet wall so it was likely safe. His stuff was definitely an opportunity.

Not so for two other hidden bags of money, which turned up in the questioning. The crew took those, together with safekeeping deposit box keys. And they got information on the real prize in some warehouse on the other side of the city. That would be theirs too.

The moment the crew walked out George ghosted the money and jewels from the closet out to the trunk of her car. When she looked over to where Daisy and Mason were ghost sitting in the alley she could see only three of them left, two men and the woman.

"Lights?" She asked as she walked up.

"The Dark." Daisy was frowning. Mason and Jameson were already best buddies. The remaining three saw what happened to the two taken by the Dark and bordered on euphoric at their good fortune. Daisy and Mason shared a little too much.

"Let's go inside." George wanted to show them their bodies. It helped them realize that they were dead and hopefully would get them talking. Jameson's body was gone. It didn't look like the police would show up anytime soon. If there was anything valuable overlooked, George, figured it would be here or close by. This was the place to start. Once the police got here, it would be troublesome to try and get in again.

Nothing came of the talk, although Mason and Jameson agreed to get together on the other side. They soon sent the three off into their lights and when they heard a police siren they all got into her red mustang. Daisy, in the back seat, had to push a pile of clothes to the side. They departed just as a police car pulled up in the alley.

"Georgia, really when are you going to take this stuff to a cleaners? Anyway, how did we do?"

"Daisy, we did good, real good. I won't be going to the cleaners anytime soon. You and I will be shopping. There's cash and jewelry. Rube will be happy. But the jewelry could be a problem." George looked over to Mason.

"No problem, Georgie girl. No problem."

"Let's go home."


	20. Chapter 20 Roxy and John

**20 Roxy and John**

Detective John Merryweather pulled up. The alley was taped off and uniforms and forensics were working the area. The coroner was on site. He approached the first uniform at the tape.

The nodded and said, "Detective. Detective Harvey is inside." He pointed towards the open door.

"Thanks, Johnson." From what he'd heard already he knew this had nothing to do with his serial killer case, but with the FBI moving in on that one he wanted to drop in and see what Roxy had here. He figured he would be free soon. Inside he found her getting updated on the first reports from a uniform.

"There were several cars parked just outside for a few hours. Nobody remembers anything except—" The officer checked his notes. "There was a classic red mustang parked right at the curb for the better part of the morning."

John said, "What gang member would be stupid enough to drive around in something as recognizable as that?" Both the uniform and Roxy turned to John walking up.

Roxy said, "Hi John. I doubt any would. Thanks, Thompson. Keep asking around." The officer left. "I heard you might have some free time soon."

"We'll see. The FBI got called in. The police chief is pissed. The mayor is pissed. Two more bodies of young mall girls dumped out in the open. And nothing solid. The guy's getting bolder and just taunting us now."

"That kind always gets caught."

"The chief would prefer if we did the catching." John looked around. "Somebody wasn't too concerned about leaving evidence behind here. Damn, they really worked these guys over." He crouched down to get a better look at one body. The body and floor were covered in blood.

"There's one woman, too. This is all gang on gang. I bet the mayor won't lose any sleep over these."

"It will steal some attention away from the mall girl murders."


	21. Chapter 21 Call from Sheila

**21 Call from Sheila**

"Reggie, this is seriously weird, your being so friendly with the woman who slept with your Dad, and broke up their marriage." Grace and Reggie walked up the stairs to meet Professor Hesburgh at her office on the third floor.

"I had to tell my Mom that she's my advisor. She's not happy. But I've always liked Charlotte even when she was with my Dad. And I think my parents would have broken up anyway."

"Still, it's weird. Anyway, she said she can steer us to jobs? I need the money, so she could sleep with my Dad if it would help."

"He's long gone, right?"

"He left when I was little. All he ever gave me was his name."

Inside Charlotte's office the two took chairs in front of her desk. She got right to the point.

"I've made some calls and the two of you have appointments the day after tomorrow to see a Delores Herbig at a temp agency called Happy Time downtown. Here's the address." She passed a postit to Reggie. "She will screen you and arrange for interviews with my husband at the country club. He's volunteered to interview students applying for jobs, something I arranged myself, so you should have no problem getting jobs. His name is Thomas and he goes by Trip. First step is to see this Deloris."

The phone rang. Charlotte looked at the caller ID. "Hold on. I need to take this."

Reggie said, "Do you want us to wait outside?"

"You might be interested in this. Just wait." She picked up the receiver and said, "Hi Sheila. I got your message. So what's going on?"

Charlotte mostly listened. Minutes passed. She said, "Can I bring two of my best students?" A pause. "OK, great. Sounds fascinating. I understand. Bye." Charlotte hung up and smiled at the two of them. "Have I got a deal for you? That was an old friend of mine. Have you two ever gotten involved in Goth culture?"

Both shook their heads no.

"Well, Sheila, used to be involved in a big way when she was younger, about 10 years ago. She was a favorite of a small time Goth rock character called Banadar or Bandar or something, anyway this guy was obsessed and apparently still is obsessed with death." She paused probably considering how best to convey the background on this. "Do you remember that pop star that was murdered on stage on live TV by his ex-girlfriend right here in Seattle?"

"That was a long time ago." Grace ventured. "I vaguely remember something. I was only about," She hesitated and said, "12 years old. It was around the time my Great Grandmother died. I had been living with her until they sent her away."

Reggie remembered all too well her Dad's living arrangements back then and decided the less said the better.

Charlotte continued. "It was, yes, about 10 years ago. Sheila was there right in front and was so traumatized she left the Goth crowd and Banadar behind and went back to school, which is where I met her. Now she works as a reporter at the newspaper. She's been doing well, too. She has a knack for getting inside stories on crime."

"OK. And she called you about what?" Reggie only vaguely remembered the pop star, but this 'deal' had her curiosity now.

"Well, Sheila, just got a call, out of the blue, from Banadar, his real name is Fred, Fred Swirsky, and he's convinced he's found a pathway to immortality. He's invited her along with a few others to the event tomorrow night at a local Goth club. The three of us will meet Sheila there at about 8:00 PM."

"That sounds early for Goth. You sure it's not like midnight?" Grace suppressed a giggle.

"Maybe immortals need extra sleep. Anyway, she says this could be really interesting and she doesn't want to go alone. She only agreed to go if she could bring support. And I don't want to go alone. You two in? You might get in on the ground floor to…what did she call it…the pathway to immortality."

Reggie and Grace looked at each other. "Sure we're in."


	22. Chapter 22 Reapers and Mustang

**22 Reapers and Mustang**

Later that same afternoon at the reaper house, George was dividing up the cash taken from the day's successful opportunity. It was a decent haul. Thank the gods for Seattle's criminal underworld. She smiled. She heard Roxy's car pull up outside. Daisy and Mason came down the stairs.

"Is Roxy here? Did you call her Georgia?"

"No, but I bet she handled the crime scene." George had counted out the money and made five piles, easy because most of the money was in bundles of hundreds with several bundles of fifties and a few stray twenties. And the jewelry had yet to be converted to cash. Just the cash exceeded $400,000.

"Why are there five piles? Georgie?" Mason finally noticed the divisions.

"One is for Roxy."

"What did she do? Bloody Hell. I get Rube, but she wasn't there."

"Look, Mason, as long as she's part of our group she gets a share." George looked to Daisy for support.

Daisy added it. "Roxy has taken care of us many times over. Do I need to remind you? And besides, since George has been managing these opportunities, we've never had it so good." Daisy headed to the door to let Roxy in, but Roxy was already inside. Family doesn't knock.

She walked over to the table with its five shares of cash and one large pile of mostly gold jewelry, much of it set with nice looking stones. George knew what the cash was worth, but was over her head regarding how to convert the gold and stones to cash. She pulled out a few paper bags to put Roxy's share in and she anticipated Rube's.

Roxy was checking the jewelry over. "This stuff here is probably all hot. Don't go anywhere near a shop with cameras." But even she looked pleased and a bit of a smile broke through. "It's a pretty good haul." But Roxy was someone who when faced with a bright blue sky could detect the faintest hint of a cloud and bring it to your attention. She was a detective. "Is it all safe, no grey?" She was back into her stone face and looked to George.

"It's good. I believe all of this came from my first reap's stash. The one they shot up front. And no one came close to finding it afterward. I only found it because I ghosted throughout the walls, floors, and ceilings. So no one left alive would have found it. He died soon and none of his friends ever mentioned a word of it. I was there. They would have mentioned it, what they went through. And they did give up some other stuff that's gone now."

"Yeah, I saw the bodies, four bodies. Pretty gruesome shit went down. Rube told me there were five reaps."

George said, "The gang that did the work lost one of their own and they took his body with them."

"Yeah, I figured."

Out of the blue Roxy remembered another cloud, a bigger cloud, and looked at George. "You need to get rid of that red mustang."

George was hurt at the thought, but she had an idea why Roxy was bringing this up.

"She loves that car. She worked hard for that car." Daisy protested on behalf of George. George didn't protest the extra support.

Roxy said, "She stole that car from a reap."

"Roxy, I got that made clean at the DMV a long time ago. Why you bringing it up?"

"No one can identity any of the cars those gang members drove, but several witnesses remember a red classic mustang. You could stand over a dead body and no one would see you, but when you're in that car, everyone does." And to drive the point home. "Guess how many classic mustangs are in Seattle, red classic mustangs?"

"One?" George let her make her point. She put one share of cash into a bag.

"Exactly. One. I'm the detective handling this case, so it won't go any further, but this kind of thing is just sloppy. Get rid of that car, or at least stop driving it on the job, and until you fix this at least don't park it –" Roxy enunciated the next few words slowly "...in...front...of the site of five gang torture murders. Somebody might notice."

"You're right. Roxy, I'm sorry." George held up the bag. "Do you want your share to go? The jewelry we'll work on and get back to you. We will make sure no one..." George looked at Mason "...shows up on any cameras."

Mason looked up and gave his best I'm innocent face.

Roxy said, "I'm going to be seeing Rube tonight."

"Just a second." George put another share into a second bag and handed it over. "We miss you at the Waffle Haus. You coming any time soon?"

"I wish. Rube thinks there may be a new reaper coming to the group, and I may move over to the station."

That news hit like a hammer blow.


	23. Chapter 23 George Visits Delores

**23 George Visits Delores**

George knocked on Delores' door. She heard Delores bustle over to open it for her. They hugged and Delores took her coat. George came inside and put a paper bag down on the puzzle table. "I picked up your prescription on the way over. How are you feeling? Getting any better?"

"Millie, you know at my age I'm lucky just to tread water, you know." She was getting something to drink in the kitchen. "Coffee or tea? I got some Danish at the bakery on the corner. Is that OK?"

"That's fine. I'll have what you're having?"

"Absolutely, though at this late time of the day I stick to decaf only."

"That's fine for me." George sat down at the table and looked over the puzzle, still less than half way through. "I'm sorry about not making it in to work today. Some stuff came up, and, you know."

"You know, Millie, for somebody who never gets sick you see a lot of doctors. Don't worry about it." Delores came out of kitchen and sat down at the table. "This puzzle is really moving now."

After a few more minutes and a little more bustling to get everything served, the two settled down in front of the puzzle. George could tell something was on Delores' mind. "Is everything OK at Happy Time? You seem a little bit tense tonight?"

"Millie, you know that friend I have over at the main office?"

George nodded her head once to encourage Delores.

"He tells me that there's some talk about me retiring soon." She looked like she might break down into tears.

"Do you want to retire?"

"It's not whether I want to or not. I may have to." She stopped and took a sip from her coffee. George could see her hand was unsteady. "I thought when the time came I would be ready, but…when the drop in the markets happened a few years back, I lost a lot of money, and…I got scared so I took what I had out and then, well now…I don't…with where interest rates are and what I would get with Social Security I'm just not going to have enough to get by. And I don't know…if they force me to retire…what I'm going to do." Delores struggled and her lips quivered.

George had never seen Delores this far down. George suspected the money troubles. She had gotten glimpses of her bank account statement. She reached over and placed her hand over Delores' and this helped her steady some. George smiled and took a sip of her coffee. "I want you to understand something, Delores. No matter what they decide, I will take care of you."

Delores looked confused at this. "Millie, I know how much you make, and I don't want to burden you. These days you hardly get 15 hours a week in. And after I'm gone you may not be kept on and lose even that. And, you've still got your whole life ahead of you. You're only…you're still in your…young." Delores seemed to be looking at her and seeing something for the first time. "Don't make the mistakes I did, Millie. I was young and I lived for the moment and forgot there was a future. I never married, never had any kids, and now even Happy Time may pass me by." She seemed to pull something from an inner reserve and said, "Anyway, I'm sorry I told you my troubles. They're my troubles. I've always gotten by on my own. I don't want to take charity. I want you to..."

"Delores." George didn't know how to, maybe couldn't, really explain how she felt towards Delores. "I don't work at Happy Time because I need the money. You were there for me when I needed you. And I don't want you to ever have to worry. I'm going to take care of you because I want to and it's not charity. I see it…you as family." And before Delores could object or get more emotional, because George could feel herself getting to the edge now. "Now that that's settled, let's get at this puzzle. You know it won't put itself together will it?"

Delores took a deep breath. This discussion wasn't over, not yet, but George could see the tension and stress fall away and maybe a few years too. "By the way, Millie, how much was the medicine?"

George focused on the puzzle pieces. "Did you make sure it's the correct prescription? I might've made a mistake."

"Really, Millie, you've never brought over the wrong one before." Delores saw something in Millie's face, maybe a smile wanting to explode. She reached for the bag. Inside she found a thick envelope and opened it. "Oh my, Millie. Where did you get this?" Inside was a considerable amount of cash. "This is $10,000 dollars, Millie. Where did you get this? Is it legal?"

"Delores." George wiped the suppressed smile away and took on a more serious mien. "I've known you've been worried about money for a while. I didn't know about the retirement problem, but look Delores, I want you to understand I can and will help you. You don't need to worry."

"But, Millie, is this legal? How did you get this?"

"Yes, Delores, it is legal. How I came by it, well, you don't need to worry about. But let's not complicate our lives. Keep it in cash, because you will not be able to explain that to the IRS. And because we don't want to complicate our tax…profile…yours or mine, please don't ever tell anyone about it, OK?" George bit into her Danish. "This is good. Is there any more?"

"Honestly, Millie. I don't know how you eat like you do and you never ever gain weight."

She smiled through her chewing. "I see a lot of good doctors."


	24. Chapter 24 Reaper House Tranquility

**24 Reaper House Tranquility**

George walked in the house, a long day, but productive.

Daisy met her just inside. "Georgia, I hope you don't mind we ordered pizza. It should be here any minute. I got it with your favorite toppings."

"No, that's fine." She went into the living room. Mason was watching TV. She looked at the screen a few seconds. "Mason, is that what I think it is?

Daisy said, "Mason, why don't you pause that? I see the pizza deliveryman out front. Do you have some dollar bills, Georgia? You know, for a tip?"

Georgia pulled out a couple of twenties and handed them to Daisy, who hurried back to the door. George settled into a chair. Mason had paused the DVD, and left to get plates for the pizza without being told by anyone. She had this feeling that maybe she had entered an episode of the Twilight Zone. Either that or she had underestimated Daisy, a lot. Mason was home watching TV instead of out moving drugs in some back alley. And he was looking and acting…domesticated. Daisy was home making sure food was on the table instead of out taking down her latest prey.

George had the sensation she got with Delores when some puzzle pieces just came together into a nice snug fit and she was seeing a part of the picture for the first time that up to now had been obscured. It occurred to her that Daisy was busy constructing a new life for herself, no, for all of them, by rearranging pieces of the old. She had watched her work on Mason, and in truth, the new Mason was better for it. Probably he was happier, at least happier than she had ever seen him. His drug use was way down and he seemed to breathe in all the death and still be able to keep his perspective. That wasn't the new part. It was the realization that she, George Lass, was one of the pieces.

Daisy was a conundrum; she had to admit, with layers of mystery deep inside that head of hers. George could see a trajectory they were all on, one fashioned by Daisy deliberately, and the speed was accelerating, but she couldn't see the destination - destination unknown. George wondered if Daisy knew herself or was it by some unconscious instinct.

Daisy bustled back into the room. "Ok, pizza is served. At the table. We can watch TV after we eat."

OK, all aboard and let's see where we end up.

At the table Daisy said, "So, Georgia, how's Delores doing?" Daisy separated a few slices.

Mason reached for his first piece and was focused on his food already.

"Happy Time may force her to retire soon, and that could be a problem." George saw that in fact Daisy had ordered the pizza the way she liked it, traditional toppings – pepperoni, extra cheese, and with mushrooms.

"Hasn't she been in charge of that office for what? Since before you started there."

"Something like twenty years, I think."

And then out of the blue. Daisy said, "I called Rube about what Roxy said."

"That she might leave?"

"Yes. He said he hasn't heard anything. He was talking to her because he's seen this pattern before, where they slow down reaps through one boss and move the reaper over elsewhere soon after. It's a way to let everyone adjust the load. So he won't be surprised if she's moved over to the station permanently."

Mason found his voice. "Those two wouldn't be separated. She'd just get her reaps through someone else."

George liked fresh pizza. She said, "Or more likely she'll be a new boss over there. This is good, Daisy."

"I thought you'd be hungry. You did really great today. Thanks Georgia."

"No problem." Now she felt like working on another puzzle piece. She looked at Mason, who was busy on his second piece. "So when did you two start watching Touched by an Angel and why? No one would confuse us with angels."

"Don't be too sure, Georgia. Don't be too sure. Rube loaned us the DVD's."

"I thought I knew Rube." And I thought I knew Daisy, too, and here Mason is watching Touched by an Angel.

Later that night George lay on her bed looking up at the ceiling, waiting and listening. And while she waited and listened she also wondered and pondered. She needed something to get out of this routine. It's not that she was unhappy, because she was happy. No, get out of was wrong she wanted to move to another level or a new direction. But what?

And there she went. The creaky floorboards of this old house betrayed every movement especially on the second floor and especially Daisy moving from her own bedroom down the hallway to Mason's room and bed. Oh, well. One night a few years ago. A night never repeated. Mason tried moving from his bed to Daisy's. You would have thought she was attacked by a serial murder torture rapist. He never tried that again. End result was the same. Six of one, half a dozen of another.

Maybe Daisy wanted to move her routine to some new level or some new direction. She looked for something, too. But what?


	25. Chapter 25 Waffle Haus Routine Again

**25 Waffle Haus Routine Again**

The next morning at the Waffle Haus booth Rube was in a good mood. Roxy wasn't here, but she had given him his share and the details.

"You guys did good yesterday. Well done. George, I like your little red car, but Roxy..."

"I know. I got it."

"Great."

She thought he might hand out the postits about now, but no. Bad sign. No one said anything about the postits. George could already feel hers was going to be another mall girl out at the cabin. Daisy was looking like she was dreading hers, too. Mason looked uneasy and kept looking to Daisy for reassurance, and she would give it with her usual smile or nod. More likely Mason was picking up on Daisy's bad premonition, than anything bad coming his way.

After Kiffany cleared the table and brought more coffee Rube pulled out his book. "OK, we got a full load today and no opportunities in sight."

She hoped that was it, the no opportunities, but she suspected he was just diverting their attention. She could sense something about her reap and it wasn't going to be pretty, the cabin never was, and she knew the others could sense something of their own before Rube said anything. He put a postit in front of Mason. Mason looked relieved. First up likely meant no complications. "You know that Goth club about a mile from here? I did a reap there a few years ago."

"Yeah, Rube. I know that place. I know it well. I do..." He caught a look on Daisy's face, she pulled on his leash, and he corrected himself. "...used to do a lot of business there."

"You'd think we'd get more of our business there. The reap I had was some kid. They were doing some perverted stuff in the back of the stage area, and he ended up dead. They hid the body, I didn't bother following, and the kid wasn't angry. Said it was an accident. Something is going to happen there tonight and the reap is yours. Goes down 9:33 sharp. Daisy I want you to go with him and give him some cover as needed."

Daisy smiled at Mason. "No problem, Rube. We'll take care of it."

The runner up is... "Peanut."

"Really, Rube, we can drop that name. Really."

He ignored her protests. He always did. "My girl has got a mall reap."

Both Mason and Daisy looked relieved. George could ghost without any problem and neither of them could as easily and these mall reaps were complicated on the move type reaps.

"OK, as before, you get a time and location for your reap at the mall and..."

"I know the routine, Rube. How much time between?"

"Let's see. You rendezvous with the girl, about 2:20 PM this afternoon at the mall, and she checks out at that cabin at 2:10 AM."

Daisy looked glum. "That's a long time with that sadistic bastard."

The sadistic bastard took a long time to kill his victims so someone had to reap before his torture routine began and wait around until the actual death occurred. His early reaps they went out and ghosted on site, but soon they hit upon the early rendezvous at the mall so they didn't have to be close to it. Even reapers have limits. Still someone had to ghost up close to the cabin and George knew she was the best choice for that.

"I'll go with you, Peanut."

Daisy looked shocked. "To the mall?" Rube got irritated at the mall.

Rube looked to Daisy and said, "No, you're going to go with her to the mall. I'll ride shotgun out to the cabin area, to pick up the soul."

George knew after they died these souls did not want see a man anywhere. "Rube, maybe Daisy, or Roxy, would be better." The last few were not sane after their time in the cabin and it took some time to get them calmed and in a frame of mind to cross over.

"Daisy will be doing the Goth gig with Mason till late. Roxy's not so flexible, and I would rather she not be anywhere near that cabin. Eventually he'll get caught. I hear the FBI has been brought in."

George said, "And they'll track all the police cars and phones and there might be questions down the road."

"Exactly, Peanut. So I'll go with you and keep to the back. She doesn't have to ever see me." Rube looked around. "Any questions?" It was all a routine now. Rube picked up his last postit. "Good. Daisy." George could see her tense up. Daisy likely could feel something bad coming. Mason was picking up on her stress levels and it showed on his face. They were all worried. "Daisy." Rube put a postit down in front of her and kept his finger on it as he sought eye contact. She looked at it and her eyebrows rose a bit. George could see she was trying to look like she was in control. Rube and George exchanged a long glance, and then Rube returned his focus to Daisy. "It's at the hospital."

Daisy smiled. "I can see that, Rube. Fine. It's at the hospital. I won't have any trouble finding them, will I? And it's this morning at…9:20 AM. That's great. I'll have plenty of time to meet George at the mall after and we can do some shopping before we reap the girl. Perfect."

"Daisy, George is going with you."

"Rube, I'm OK. I can do this by myself."

George rarely heard this gentle tone in Rube's voice, but here he brought it out now. Firm, but kind. "Yes, Daisy. I know you could do it alone, but you aren't going to be alone. George will be with you."

"OK, Rube. Really, I'm OK." She fussed with her hair and tried to look together, which was when she was most off, and likely would pull out her compact in the next moment.

"It's going to be a child in the terminal wing. You might have to do some ghosting to avoid showing up on the cameras."

Oh shit. Why in the fuck do they give these to her? She was an emotional wreck for days after the last one. Now Daisy looked like she was minutes from her own execution.

Rube said, "OK. Any questions? Good. Keep me posted."

Daisy got up first and headed for the door looking carefully straight ahead, and she didn't even hear Kiffany's goodbye. Mason followed close behind.

Rube motioned to George. "George, stay close to her. The last time..."

"I understand." George hurried to catch up to Daisy. She would do her best. Something had broken Daisy a long time ago and the pieces had never really been put back together. She was a great actress and no matter how George ever approached this thing with kids, the smaller they were, the worse the reaction. Daisy acted as if nothing was wrong when they could all see something was in turmoil below the smiles and make-up. George figured it was something from when she was alive, and that was a long time ago, and yet it still ate at her bursting out into self-destructive drinking binges. Why did she get these kids? Why now?


	26. Chapter 26 Daisy Reaps Child

**26 Daisy Reaps Child**

Daisy did not talk, not a word. For a normal reap, she would already be chattering on about their shopping for George's mall reap. She and the serial killer asshole preferred the same malls. But she just looked at everything and nothing as it passed by. George allowed the silence to hang over things and drove.

After she parked the little red mustang, Daisy finally spoke up. "Georgia, you can wait here. I'd rather just do it by myself."

"Daisy. You know you can talk to me about this." Aah shit. Those words were out of her mouth, and now George sounded like a pathetic mother trying to communicate with her teenage daughter.

Daisy rolled her eyes just little. "Georgia. I know you mean well, but…you can't understand about this. You just can't." Daisy faced her way and said, "Look, Sweetie, I'll really be alright. I've done this before. I'll have to ghost for too long." Daisy had consequences, serious consequences, after she ghosted. "So, give me some time afterward to recover, and then I'll meet you right here, or in the lobby if you'd rather."

George considered this. "How long do you want afterward?"

"It's a child so they'll go right into the lights. Then I'll need, say to be safe 45 minutes, let's say 10:30, and I'll meet you here or in the lobby. I'll come through the lobby first. How's that?"

"Sounds boring."

"Georgia, trust me. You don't want to watch. And I'd rather be alone afterward."

George nodded. She did not want to watch and did not want to wait right outside a restroom while Daisy worked through those consequences. Daisy walked towards the entrance and George settled into the driver's seat to wait. She had a book in the glove box for just such emergencies.

Inside, Daisy walked as close as she could and then waited in a chair until the time was near. She didn't want to cut things too close, but these child deaths in hospitals were usually pretty straightforward. She wondered whether it would be boring working natural causes here in the hospital. She just had to keep her own control on tight. At 9:15 she got up and found a corner out of sight of cameras and with nobody around and ghosted herself. She moved easily through the halls towards the room and in this form she could feel her reap just up ahead. The little soul stood out like a beacon in the dark.

She eased into the room with a small boy in motion on the bed. He was in pain, a lot of pain, and he couldn't stop moving and trying to move and not move at the same time. She looked at the chart and her heart stopped. He was very young, about three and half years old, and he….oh my god he seemed to have the very same genetic malady that. She thought this sort of thing didn't happen anymore. They had tests for it. She stepped back. And then she moved forward to do it and get it over with. But she made a mistake. She reaped him and then stayed to look into his eyes, and he looked back. He was so little she didn't expect he could talk. She had forgotten they could talk at this age.

He said, "Are you an angel?"

Daisy wanted to jump back, but held herself in place. She almost told the truth, but considered a moment. "Yes, Honey, I am."

"My Mama told me an angel is coming for me."

"Well, you're Mama is right. I'm going to take you someplace much better. And you won't feel pain anymore."

"It hurts a lot. It always hurts."

"I know. Soon, very soon, and it won't hurt anymore." With that Daisy stepped back and away into a corner of his room. She could hear the angel of death approaching. Daisy didn't know whether the woman was evil or a saint. She often killed those people who were terminal like this little boy, without any hope of recovery. He had a genetic disease that after prolonged suffering would finally end his life. Daisy remembered the suffering of her own daughter. Her little girl had no angel of death to end her suffering, and Daisy watched her die a horrible painful drawn out death. Her suffering was ended finally, but Daisy's continued to this day. After this she was going to need some serious liquid medicine to put her memories, her nightmares, back where she could pretend they didn't exist. And stay well away from little kids.

The nurse carried a syringe cupped in her hand. She looked around, up and down the hall. Satisfied, she entered and approached the boy's bed.

"Hi Stevie."

"She's here, she's here."

"Who's here, Stevie?" The nurse looked around.

"The angel who's going to take me away. The one my Mama told me about."

The nurse smiled at Stevie, and then stopped. She looked around again, and Daisy felt her eyes linger on where she was standing, but then, she shook her head, and inserted the syringe into the IV without any further delay. Daisy liked her a little more or maybe disliked her a little less, when she held his hand as he died.

Stevie appeared next to Daisy. "What's your name? Do angels have names?" They watched the nurse leave the room. Daisy noticed she didn't shed one tear. And was that a smile on her face?

"You can call me, Daisy, Stevie."

"I don't hurt anymore, Daisy." He looked at his little hands and then his arm and then turned his face up to Daisy with a broad smile. "Thank you."

Daisy picked the boy up and carried him into the hall. From experience, she knew the lights would not be long. The smaller the child was the quicker they came, and right on schedule they appeared feet away. And they were never anything fancy, just a simple gateway. She put him down, and he headed toward them. She watched and couldn't help her own tears. She knew this happened, finally, for her daughter, that her daughter was someplace better. Stevie turned before he went out of sight and waved to her. She waved back and he and the lights were gone.

And now she needed to find someplace to face her own very real physical consequences. She ghosted through several rooms and out of the children's section. She stopped in a room with an old woman reading a book to consider her options and get herself presentable before coming out of ghosting. She had stopped crying but really wanted to check her compact mirror and do some touch up. She just knew her eyes were all puffy. This would not do at all. Then the old woman talked to her. "Child, what has got you so upset?"

Daisy stopped sniffling and turned to face the woman. She looked around, but they were alone in the room and Daisy was still ghosting.

The woman looked right at her and said, "Yes, you child. I can make you out just fine. Are you lost?"

Daisy materialized into the physical. "You can see me?"

"Yes, child, just fine. Much better now. You're not a ghost then, are you?"

Now that she was out of ghosting, she really needed to find a restroom. "Ma'am, can I use your restroom?"

"Definitely not a ghost. Yes, Honey, go right ahead." She waved toward her restroom and its open door.

Daisy hurried into the restroom, shut the door and locked it to take care of business. She was really not cut out for ghosting. Either end of her.

Ten minutes later Daisy emerged feeling better if somewhat purged. "Thank you, very much. I'm sorry about that."

"I wasn't using it anyway. They got me hooked up here pretty good."

Daisy walked, a little unsteady still, over to the woman's chart at the foot of the bed. "Do you mind?"

"Well, you're the first who's ever asked that. No. Go right ahead. It boils down to saying something about me being terminal with cancer. I'm sure you'll be coming for me soon."

Daisy stopped looking at the chart at that last part. "What do you mean?"

"I've seen you around before, and your friends sometimes. You come and then leave with some soul. Are you coming or going. I don't see anybody with you today."

Daisy didn't know what to make of this. In all her years she had never met one of the living, who knew so much and yet still lived. Maybe her terminal situation made her able to see…things. "Have you been able to see…us for long?"

"All my life, Dear, as could my Mother. It was our little secret. Now, why are you so upset?"

Daisy looked around. She took a few steps closer.

"Honey, I don't bite. My name, by the way, is Mary, Mary Merryweather."

"Daisy, Daisy Adair. Your parents must have liked the rhyme."

"My maiden name was Schnee, Mary Schnee. I thought Merryweather was a step to the better. Schnee sounded like I was sneezing or worse."

"It sounds just fine."

"So, Daisy, why would you be so sad? You looked like your whole world was falling in on you when you came through my wall."

"Well." What the hell? The woman is dying and she knows a lot already. "Mary, I just took the soul of a little boy who had a painful incurable disease. Something to do with bad genes. He was in so much pain and once he was dead he was so happy and he went into his lights." Daisy couldn't help the tears. She knew she would have to redo the make up and her eyes were not getting any less puffy.

"Daisy, come here." Daisy moved to sit next to her and Mary pulled her closer into a hug. Daisy let more tears flow. "It's OK, Honey, you let all that out." When she let Daisy loose, she sat up and shifted back to her chair, wiping her eyes.

"I'm sorry, Mary."

"What was your child's name?"

Daisy stopped wiping and sniffling. "How did you know?"

"Child, it's obvious. What was your own little one's name?"

"Hannah, after her grandmother."

"That's a pretty name."

"She had the same disease as that little boy. Only he was lucky."

"How so?"

"There's a nurse over there. She cut his suffering short."

"Murder?"

"Yes, if you want the dictionary definition for what happened, yes that's what it would be called, and truthfully I wish that someone had done that for my little girl. She suffered so much for months before she finally died."

"When did all this happen?"

Daisy paused to think through the dates. It had been a long while. "I had her when I was 13 years old."

"Thirteen. Were you…?"

"Raped? No, Mary. I wish. It was all my fault. My cousin, he was my age and a first cousin, and I couldn't resist…and one thing led to another. All her pain and suffering was my fault." Daisy was breaking down again. She had never shared any of this with anyone since long before her own death.

"Daisy." Mary took one hand in each of hers. "Listen to me, OK? Your little girl is someplace better. Her suffering ended a long ago but you're still carrying all this pain with you. I am absolutely sure she forgives you."

"I'm sure she does too. She was a little angel, so happy before the pain started. Mary, I can't forgive myself for what I did to her."

Mary pulled her closer and into another hug. After a long minute. "Daisy, how long have you been carrying this with you? How old are you?" She let her go and Daisy sat back in her chair, but Mary held onto one hand. The strong connection comforted Daisy.

"I had her in 1928 when I was 13, so it's been a long while."

"You don't look that old at all."

"I died in 1939, when I was 24." Daisy looked into the old woman's eyes. "Mary, do you know what I am?"

Mary shook her head no. "I know you collect souls, and I've seen people like you all my life, but my Mother and I just kept it to ourselves."

"We call ourselves grim reapers. We collect souls when people die and we make sure they get into their lights. Some people when they die are held back to do this work. You're being able to see us is, well, I've never heard of it. And people who find out about us tend to die soon after. So I'm actually surprised about you being alive."

"Well, Honey, I'm not long for this world, and I suspect as long as that someone keeps it to themselves Death leaves well enough alone."

Daisy considered this. It seems so rare that it would not matter much. She felt better now.

"So now you're an angel?"

"Mary, I'm not an angel. That's for sure."

Mary kept hold of her hand as Daisy took a deep breath. Daisy had more she wanted to get out. This woman was so easy and open. "My family was not happy about Hannah, but they accepted her. My cousin and I stayed apart. But I have a weakness for men."

"Well, Daisy, you're very pretty. Maybe men have a weakness for you."

She laughed. She liked Mary. "I fell for this older guy, he was 18, and got pregnant again. I was 16. Seems so long ago, now. Remember this was in about 1930. My family being Catholic and all, I don't blame them, lost patience and sent me to a home for unwed mothers in Los Angeles, St. Anne's, it was called. And you know what they say. Just when you think things can't get any worse. While I was there my parents sent me a letter telling me not to come home. When I had my son - he was healthy - the sisters took him and put him up for adoption. I never saw him again. I don't know what happened to him. I often wonder though. He would be 83 today." She would drink herself into oblivion or try to on his birthday. She tracked his age and what he might be doing year by year, his graduation from high school, then college, and maybe when he would have found a wife. He might well be dead now. She just didn't know. She felt a slight squeeze on her hand and that brought her back. "So, I couldn't go home. I didn't have a home; I was 16 or 17, an old 17, and being right next to Hollywood I decided to pursue a career there. And things were starting to go well." Daisy brightened up and smiled. "I had a part in the movie Gone with the Wind, when I died in a fire on the set. Cut short a promising career I think, but, anyway. I've been doing this reaping since."

"You never saw your son?"

"My dream..."

"Go ahead." She squeezed her hand just a touch.

"No, I never did. The sisters never told me anything. I hoped to do well and somehow find my boy, and live happily ever after. I thought back then that I could be such a good mother. Somebody else got to be his mother. I don't know if I ever took it seriously myself. It was silly, a young girl's silly dreams, and that girl is dead, long dead. And that silly dream died too, I think."

"What was your boy's name?"

"I call him John. I don't know what name they gave to him. And he would be 83 years old today, 83."

"My grandson is called John, too. And he'll be here soon for a visit. He used to stay with us during the summers when he was growing up. And when his parents died he came to live with us. He's a really good boy, but a little too serious about his work. I'm trying to get him to settle down with a nice girl. I'll introduce you when he gets here."

Daisy pondered this a bit. She wasn't sure where Mary was going with this introduction. "Mary, maybe it's better he never meet me."

"Nonsense, Daisy. You'll like him."

"Really, I'm sure I would like him, but it's better if he not like me. I'm bad luck."

"Daisy. Get such thoughts out of your head. I suspect you reapers don't settle down and all, but you can be friends. You're talking to me. And I think you're just a wonderful young lady."

"You really can't say anything about what I told you, you know."

"Daisy, I wouldn't have gotten this far if I talked about such things. My own Mother lived to be 82 and believe me, she had some stories that we kept just between the two of us. Your secret is safe with me, and besides I'll be passing over myself not too long from now."

"How bad is your...?"

"I'm getting some more tests results soon and I should know whether it's going into remission or will finish me off."

Down in the parking lot George was outside of the little red car leaning back on the hood. Her arms were crossed and she was looking at nothing in particular swinging between anger and worry. Should she go in or wait for her here? Rube was going to be so pissed. She was so pissed right now. She should have gone with her. She would give her 10 more minutes and then she would ghost through every goddamn inch of that hospital. Maybe she fell in and couldn't get out. Maybe she was crying her eyes out in some closet. Maybe, she found rubbing alcohol in one of those closets. Christ.

Some guy, a very good looking guy, pulled up in a really boring sedan right next to her despite the fact there were plenty of empty spaces all along the parking rows. She liked to park away from other cars, but this guy had to pull up right next to her. She avoided eye contact.

He got out. He was tall and good looking. And he looked at her car and then attempted to catch her attention. When she refused to meet his eyes the asshole had the gall. He said, "Nice car."

She really was not in the mood even if he was tall and cute and had a nice deep voice. "Fuck off."

The guy opened his rear door and pulled out a huge flower bouquet. No doubt visiting someone and then he again turned to face her. "Hi, let me try this again, I'm Detective Merryweather."

Oh Christ, a fucking cop. "Fuck off, Detective Sunshine."

Well that worked, but George did not like the fact he not so casually took a way too long a look at her license plate. With yesterday's goings on, this was too much, particularly in her state of mind. That's it. Before Detective Fuck Himself Sunshine got to the door, George was already gone ghosting up towards that kid's room.

As soon as she ghosted, she could sense Daisy's location. Within a minute she found Daisy smiling and talking happily and holding hands with an old woman. What the fuck? She moved over right in front of the bed in ghost form waiting for Daisy to notice her and walk out.

Instead the old woman looked right at her and said, "Is she a friend of yours?"

George was so startled when the old woman looked at her and spoke that she dropped into the physical.

"Georgia, this is Mary. She knows about us and can see us."

"OK. Daisy. Maybe we should go." George took another step closer not at all sure about this odd development. She looked around. No one saw her reappear as far as she could tell.

"Don't be rude. Introduce yourself." At her hesitation Daisy did it for her. "This is Georgia Lass. She's also a reaper. Georgia, this is Mary, Mary Merryweather."

Mary said, "I've seen her here too. How do you do, Georgia? Don't worry. I don't bite. Do I Daisy?"

"Sit down, Georgia." Daisy pulled a chair closer.

George did not sit. This new Merryweather fact had seized her full attention. "Did you say Merryweather?"

"Yes, my name is Merryweather."

"Do you have a son named John?"

She said, "No." George was relieved. Then she said, "But I do have a grandson named John. He should be here any minute."

Ah shit. She put some urgency into her voice. "Daisy we need to go. Now. Her grandson is a police detective and I met him outside just a few minutes ago."

"So?"

"Goddamn it, Daisy. We don't have time to talk about this. He noticed me in the red mustang and was way too interested in it. And I told him to go fuck himself when he started asking questions."

From behind George heard. "How did you get up here before me?" George turned to see Detective John Sunshine enter the room with those flowers. He walked over to a vase next to Mary's bed and put them inside.

George said, "Well, Detective Sunshine, you need to know the shortcuts."

He turned to face her. God he was good looking, and he had to be a detective, and alive.

"Hi John, these are my new friends, Daisy Adair and Georgia, Georgia Lass, right? They're volunteers here at the hospital, so they know their way around. Keep an open mind and you might learn how she got up here so fast." She winked at Daisy and Georgia.

"OK. Grandma. Glad to meet you, Georgia." He extended his hand and George had to shake it. "And Daisy." He shook Daisy's too.

Finally, Daisy got the message. "I would like to stay, but I've taken up enough time. Mary." Daisy got down to hug her warmly. "May I visit you again soon?"

"Daisy, I hope you do and don't wait for your volunteer work to bring you this way. Honey, you come anytime. You too Georgia."

And with that they finally got out of there. Down the hall and outside of anyone's hearing George turned to Daisy. Daisy was smiling. What happened? They all expected her to come home tonight a basket case. She put away her anger to find out the ingredients of this concoction Mary gave to Daisy. "So Daisy. Who is Mary?"

"You noticed she could see you even ghosted, didn't you?"

"Yeah, Daisy. I picked up on that right off. And how can that be?"

"I don't know, Georgia, but she is a very nice lady. And I'm so glad I met her, so so glad."

In the parking lot they got into the classic red mustang.

John watched them get into the red classic mustang from Mary's window. He looked over at his Grandma who was admiring the new flowers. "So Grandma. Really, who were those two women?"

"Angels, John, two angels."

John didn't say anything. He watched the two young women drive off. He knew his Grandmother well. He was used to her cryptic evasions. After his parents died he went to live with her and in fact she was more like a mother to him than a grandmother. By that time she was living with Great Grandma Rosie outside the city. She was very close to Rosie and he remembered odd things happening particularly with those two together that he couldn't explain, and they wouldn't. They always pretended nothing happened. It was part of normal in that part of his life. So when she said angels he didn't dismiss it. He didn't understand it. He just filed it away in a special compartment he reserved for facts that don't fit, yet. He shook their hands and they seemed like two normal young women, though the shorter one had a short fuse. But why was Grandma in her cryptic mode now?

This all was another odd puzzle piece waiting to be fit into place. John was patient, and he liked puzzles. And the little blonde spitfire was…well another intriguing puzzle. How did she get up here so fast?


	27. Chapter 27 Daisy and George Mall Reap

**27 Daisy and George Mall Reap**

During lunch at a coffee shop near the mall Daisy was perky almost to being obnoxious. And as far as George could tell it was real. She did a quick call to Rube out of earshot to let him know the crisis was past and promised more details later.

They got to the mall early by 45 minutes. George would find her reap and get this over with, and then the two of them could do some shopping. Daisy was eager to spend some of her share of the recent opportunity profits, and George was happy to see her in such good spirits.

The Mary episode was disturbing and she wanted to get more information from Daisy. She noticed that Daisy was free with details about Mary, but neglected to mention what they talked about, or at least what Daisy had talked about, or any real clue as to why Daisy was feeling so good now. George mentioned to Rube that the old woman could see her ghosting and he was skeptical. He wanted to hear more.

And she wanted to get with Roxy about this Detective Sunshine and make sure his taking her license number didn't go beyond Roxy. It was bad luck that he saw her and the car together and then got introduced with her reaper name, which was not the name the car was registered to. If he checked that out, well, no good could come of that. The good thing about this Mary is that she, without hesitation, covered for them. Daisy said Mary had been seeing reapers and ghosts her whole life and had always kept it to herself. She lied to her own grandson.

Daisy's talk with Mary, though, really had a positive effect on her. What could that old woman have told her, or…what did Daisy tell her? Maybe a visit to the old woman would help her to learn about what Daisy has been keeping buried for so long. But then, what did it matter? Daisy has kept this whatever to herself for so long and she and this Mary found something and it worked for Daisy. George was glad for her, so perhaps it was best left alone.

"Georgia. Georgia. Are you listening? I swear sometimes you just drift off."

"Sorry Daisy."

"Rendezvous time is close. Maybe your girl is already here."

"I'm going to find somewhere secluded and ghost."

"The sooner the better."

They walked into a Sear's store. While Daisy pretended to be interested in the clothes, George found a corner behind some racks and ghosted. Daisy stood out very close by, and she could detect two other reapers not far away. Then she could sense her reap on the other side of the mall and got a good read on her soul. She would know her now when she got anywhere close. She dropped back and picked up Daisy on the way out and headed toward the doomed girl.

They found her in the food court. She was with a boy and two girls. The girl was happy, pretty, and fated to suffer a painful exit from this life. George pointed her out to Daisy. They followed behind the group discreetly, and then split up. Daisy struck up a conversation with one of the girls, something about a colorful scarf she was wearing, and George came up and did the deed unnoticed. Job done they left the girl to enjoy her last hours with her friends and went looking for the new shoes at the top of Daisy's list. George and Rube would drive out sometime tonight and early morning tomorrow find the soul somewhere near to the cabin.

This was a pattern that they had done many times over the last few years. Almost always some pretty, young, friendly girl in one of the bigger area malls would be the victim. Lately it usually was George who did the deed, but Daisy had several of these reaps and even Mason one or two early on. What had changed was the cabin killer. Up until recently he would dispose of the bodies so they would not be discovered. Lately though and George had no idea what was going inside the guy's head and didn't much care, he had started dumping the bodies where they were sure to be discovered within hours. This had of course gotten the attention of the Seattle homicide department, and then the newspapers, and very soon ensured the FBI was brought in when the local police failed to find him. With the serial killer now dumping the bodies, they started to pile up at the morgue.

The various girls' souls reacted differently when they had gone up to collect them. Most were not in good mental shape and it was sometimes difficult to get them into a state where they could cross over. One girl had taken off and gone rogue. They lost her, which pissed Rube off. George had one who thought it necessary to go into detail about what had been done to her. Details and oversharing that George could have done without.

She was glad to have Rube coming along tomorrow morning even on stand by. If things got bad, he always seemed able to calm the worst cases down no matter the circumstances, and she would have a lot of time to talk about this Mary.


	28. Chapter 28 Fred Goth Club

**28 Fred Goth Club**

The next evening there was a last minute change of plans. Instead of meeting at the club, Grace and Reggie drove together to Charlotte's and then Charlotte drove them all by Sheila's house. Sheila was waiting out front when they pulled to the curb. Sheila had told Charlotte that she did not want to be seen at the club in her car.

"Hi, Sheila. You're looking great."

"Charlotte, it's been too long. Thanks, really for coming with me."

"Sheila, these are two of my students. Grace Hernandez and Reggie Lass."

"Hi, guys, I'm Sheila McField. Glad to meet you, and thanks for coming along. The more the better."

Charlotte pulled out.

"Charlotte, I hear you got married to someone special and it's not that professor you were tight with. "

"We parted ways several years back."

"And you're a professor now. Same school? Same department? Isn't that awkward?"

"Actually no. We get along fine, and Reggie is his daughter."

Sheila looked over the seat to Reggie. "Oh. Sorry."

"It's not a problem." Reggie had gotten used to dealing with this.

"Anyway, Sheila, I'm married now."

"So I hear. To a Hesburgh, no less, and the owner of my newspaper."

"I think you'll like him."

Sheila said, "Oh I've met him. He doesn't run things day to day, but he comes around."

The small talk went on. Sheila hadn't been to this Goth club in a while and couldn't remember what they might have in the way of food, so they decided to eat something before. Short on time they ended up stopping at McDonalds. With a little time, Sheila opened up more. She liked to talk. She was a reporter working for a newspaper and had developed a reputation for getting the inside word on ongoing criminal investigations. Her talent for getting the story had gained her a local profile. Although she was this nervous bundle of energy, she talked about everything, except what we might be seeing tonight. Since she was Charlotte's friend, or old friend, Reggie didn't push her.

The club was in an old converted warehouse. Parking was no problem, and there weren't that many people judging from the cars outside. Inside they were pretty much the only people not in Goth gear and make-up, but the place was near dead with few faces and no music. It was too early. She could tell that Charlotte was, while not impatient, perhaps thinking some more details should be forthcoming. They took their choice of booths just behind an open area and a row of tables in front of the stage. This booth was one of those big half moon shaped things. Sheila took the inside. They had a clear view of the stage and front tables. The lighting was dim with a little extra now focused on the stage and its surroundings. She could see a weird contraption – a table shaped as an upside down cross with straps that was tilted. It looked a bit creepy, but then this place was a bit creepy. Goth was a bit creepy.

It was too early for a waitress, she guessed, so after some back and forth, Grace went for the drinks at the bar. Sheila wanted something hard. The rest decided on wine.

Once back, they all settled in, and Charlotte seemed ready to push Sheila for more information. "So, Sheila, what are we expecting to see? You mentioned immortality."

Sheila, drank some of a whisky, and closed her eyes. It seemed a bit on the strong side to start out with, but it also seemed to calm her nerves. When she opened her eyes she seemed ready, finally. "You remember that pop singer who died about 10 years ago?"

Charlotte looked ready to hear more. "OK. What about him? You know these two were pretty young back then."

"Sorry. He was a new artist just hitting the big time. He got a live show on TV broadcast from a downtown Seattle stage. His ex shot him dead during his opening number, and then a cop shot his ex."

"Yes, Kyle Lowerdeck. A promising career cut short." Reggie could hear a tiny bit of sarcasm in Charlotte's voice.

"I was there, just a few feet from the whole thing." OK we were moving in the right direction. None of the three wanted to interrupt the flow from Sheila even if some of this was a repeat.

"I was with Bandar. His real name is Fred Swirsky. Not a bad guy if a little strange. He and I were pretty close back then and I was into the death and the Goth thing along with him and a few other girls. It was fun, at the time."

We're getting somewhere.

"That was enough of the death thing for me. I went back to school, and got my life straightened out. It's funny how the same event witnessed by two people will send them in entirely different directions. I went back to school and became a reporter leading a plain vanilla life. But, Fred became more obsessed with death and finding what he called a pathway to immortality. Well, he called me up a few days ago, and said he had a premonition that this new friend of his could take him all the way. That's what he calls it all the way."

Grace and Reggie looked at each other and Sheila caught it. She opened up the next layer of her practiced spiel. "He believes that…under certain circumstances…when he dies he will…become immortal. Here on Earth in some form." Grace nodded, and she continued. "He asked me to come and be present. This was it he said. I was with him at the concert, at the beginning, so he wanted me here at this next crossroads with the infinite. He's so full of shit. But. Anyway, I agreed, but I just couldn't come back here alone. There are too many memories, bad ones. So, anyway, I'm so glad you came along cause I sure couldn't do this alone. I feel much safer with you all here."

Charlotte was curious. "Safer?"

Reggie heard that, and also had more questions than answers, because it didn't really add up. She could tell Sheila was leaving out important details. Grace beat her to it. "Sheila. What exactly happened at the concert?"

At that moment Sheila's jaw dropped. They followed her eyes to the entrance where Reggie saw a scruffy looking man and a pretty and familiar looking blonde enter. She remembered the blonde from somewhere, but where?

Charlotte glanced to the door and then back to Sheila, worried. "Sheila what's wrong?"

"Oh God. Oh God." Sheila hands shook. She looked back at the couple, who, to Reggie, did not look threatening in the least. Puzzling and now this was becoming more than a little creepy.

Charlotte turned her attention back to the couple, focused through the low lighting, and then recognition lit her face. "That's Mason…and Daisy. Wow."

Sheila stopped her panic attack short and looked at Charlotte. "Mason. You know him? Do…you know what he is?"

The odd phrasing caught Charlotte, but she went on. "Yes. He's my knight in shining armor." She smiled. "When I was a student in the dorms, I almost got raped. And he saved me."

Sheila's shaking was gone, and Grace and Reggie were intent now on hearing this unexpected piece of personal history.

"Mason and a girl named Millie were visiting my dorm and when some guy closed and locked my door to force himself on me, and this was in the afternoon by the way, Mason picked the lock and knocked the guy out saving me. He was gallant. He had a bit of a crush on me for a while. I became good friends with Millie, for a time. Actually." Charlotte hesitated, and then came to a decision. She looked over at Reggie. "It was Millie who brought me and your father together."

Reggie had never heard this before. Sheila had lost some of her internal preoccupation with one demon or another and it was obvious now she had a question. "Charlotte. Did someone die in your dorm at around the time the guy tried to rape you?"

That was not the question Charlotte expected. "Yes. Some guy did die. It was a strange accident in which a drunken student let loose a tank of compressed air that hit the guy and killed him. How did you know?"

This piece of information energized Sheila. "I think we need to get out of here, now." Sheila actually tried to move through Grace to get out.

Charlotte put her hand on Sheila's arm. "Come on, Sheila, calm down. Look. The two of them are just sitting together. I've talked to both and they're OK."

"No. No. You don't understand." Panic was near the surface in Sheila's voice.

"What don't we understand? Maybe if you explained, we would understand." Charlotte was talking a bit down to Sheila like she was child. Given her frazzled and very odd reaction, this whole thing was becoming a bit of a waste and Sheila seemed more and more to be just plain weird. How this woman functioned as a reporter, was the real question.

Mason and Daisy took a table near the front stage. A man exited the curtains, jumped down to the floor, and walked up to Mason, smiling. They shook hands. Mason was introducing him to the woman, Daisy. Could it be the same Daisy from the school?

Charlotte and Grace both noticed the man, too. "Sheila. Is that Fred, your friend?"

"Yes, that's him. The fool. He wants to die. He's talking to Death himself and he knows it too."

Reggie was taken aback at the jump from extreme fear to something edged with contempt, and the odd wording – talking to Death. If nothing else now this was edging toward intriguing. And then Fred saw Sheila. He shook hands with Mason again, smiled at the woman. He certainly wasn't afraid this Mason was going to kill him, and walked towards their booth. Reggie could see that Mason and Daisy were looking their way, and putting their heads together talking. Daisy smiled at Charlotte and waved.

Fred said, "Desiree."

"It's Sheila now, Fred. I'm not that girl anymore."

"OK, OK. Thanks, for coming. Do you see? Mason is here? This is it. I know it. Tonight is the night I'm going to make it." Fred could hardly contain himself. "I'm really going all the way tonight."

Charlotte saw a different pathway, if not to immortality then maybe to some answers. "Sit down, here. Talk to us."

Sheila was not happy, but the attention was now on Fred.

"What's going to happen tonight, Fred?"

Fred looked around. He looked at Sheila, who stared at him as she pulled into herself, sat back, and crossed her arms. She certainly was not encouraging him in the least, but when we three looked his way, there was no containing him. Maybe because we were with Sheila he figured we could be trusted. This guy was more than strange. "Mason is a grim reaper. He's here to collect my soul and make me a reaper, too."

Without missing a beat and a straight face, Charlotte asked him, "How do you know Mason is a grim reaper, Fred?"

"He was there for Lowerdeck and Bead when they died. He reaped them. He took their souls."

Bead must be the name of that ex girlfriend who died with the singer.

"He told you this?"

"He told us." He nodded toward Sheila. "He told us what he was and why he was at the concert and then when they were shot he took their souls. We both saw the whole thing."

"What is a grim reaper?" Charlotte should be the reporter. Now we were getting answers. Whether the guy was high on something, well.

"Mason died a long time ago and came back as a grim reaper. Reapers go to where someone is going to die and collect their souls." Fred looked back at Mason and Daisy. Mason smiled and raised his glass. The two were talking intently and looking their way. "I bet she's one, too." He referred to Daisy, and then turned back to us.

"They look alive and breathing. Not what I would expect for agents of Death out collecting souls." Charlotte just stated this – not a question.

"I know, it's odd, isn't it. I guess once you're on the inside it will all become obvious."

She asked, "What's going to happen here, Fred?"

"You see that guy." He pointed to a man in heavy Goth make-up working on the contraption on stage. "He's a vampire or claims to be. He will drain my blood out, all of it, on stage and I will die. After I die either I will become a vampire, like him, or a grim reaper like Mason."

OK. This guy was not only strange, but stupid, seriously stupid.

Daisy had walked up to our booth. "Charlotte. How have you been doing? You're looking well."

Reggie's gut feeling, which she couldn't explain, was that Daisy was trying to disrupt Fred's talking, but…why would she want to do that?

She looked to the others at the table with a perky smile. Very friendly. "Hi, I'm Daisy, Daisy Adair."

"I remember you now. Oh, sorry." Reggie couldn't help blurting out as recognition hit her. Really, this Fred, was an idiot and not really worth her time.

Daisy looked her over. "You know, I'm sorry, but I don't recall meeting you." Her attention turned to Reggie, no threat just curiosity.

"I'm sorry. Really. I was only about 12 years old. You and a man came to a classroom as substitute teachers. I was with a kid showing off his Komodo dragon. The man you were with. He was called Rube."

Charlotte took control. "OK, I think introductions are in order."

Reggie led off. "I'm Reggie, Reggie Lass."

Daisy reached out to shake her hand. Odd. And then reached towards Grace.

"Grace Hernandez."

Sheila looked at Daisy and then Fred and back to Daisy. Daisy reached across the table, but Sheila did not take the offered hand leaving Daisy hanging. Sheila started to open her mouth. Everyone watched this unfold. What was her problem? Fred stepped in. "She's Sheila McField, and we just met."

The tension was broken when Fred looked at his watch, followed by Daisy checking hers. Fred saw a man on the stage motion to him. "My date with destiny is here." He smiled and excused himself. For a guy about to die he seemed awfully cheerful.

Daisy also excused herself. Mission accomplished? But really what did it matter? This guy was seriously lacking something upstairs. She doubted anyone was going to die tonight. This was some sort of show and he was…basically soft in the head. Sheila was looking unwell again, but the conversation took a new turn.

Charlotte, Reggie could tell, really wanted to talk more with Daisy, but as Reggie looked over she could see her motion to Mason, who got up to follow her. They were already leaving. That was odd. They come for this show or whatever, they know the star, and before it begins, they get up and walk out. Mason was not going to come over to say anything and that disappointed Charlotte. Charlotte liked people and absorbed personal details. She wanted to talk to Mason. They could see Daisy take Mason by the arm and off they went through the door. Why the hurry? They just got here.

Charlotte still had a bit of frown on her face and tried to lighten things up. "I met Millie once at the Waffle Haus, the one downtown, and I met Daisy there, and of course Mason, and then Rube showed up. He was much older with dark hair and eyes." She looked to Reggie.

"Yes, could be the guy she came to the school with."

And she continued. "Rube is Millie's stepfather, and then there was a woman named Roxy who was his wife."

Grace had been looking at the stage preparations and only half listening. "Rube? What was his last name?"

"I don't remember. Millie's was Hagen."

Sheila was not doing well. She looked sick. She watched them strap the happy Fred into that contraption. She downed the rest of her drink and her hand shook a bit and she covered her mouth with her hand, then her forehead and back again.

Charlotte reopened the questioning, because they all had questions. "So Sheila, is all that true? Did Mason tell you back then at the concert that he was grim reaper? That he had died and come back as a grim reaper? What did he say? He's here collecting souls of people who die?"

Sheila just gave one collective answer to all her questions and said, "Yes." She kept her eyes on the stage. Reggie kept her eyes on her face.

Charlotte shifted to some concern. "OK, why would you get so spooked, why would you believe him? Mason is a little strange, but…a pretty nice guy once you get to know him. He certainly failed to mention he was a grim reaper when I talked to him." She smiled broadly.

Sheila was a reporter and used to pulling evidence together to get at the truth or at least could on any other night and maybe on any other topic, but here and now she struggled and finally pulled something of her reporter self to the surface. She stopped looking at the stage and looked to each in turn. "Reggie, when Daisy and Rube were at your school did anyone die?"

Reggie didn't have to think about that. "Yes, the janitor died. And the dragon did too."

Sheila looked at Charlotte. "You said a student died when you first met Mason and this Millie, right?"

"Yes. And now that I think of it. Later when Millie and I were walking along the ocean park front, some kid died nearby."

They all were quiet, thinking. Sheila continued. "At the concert." She looked into her glass, but it was empty. "At the concert, Mason kept looking at a piece of paper, a postit, in his shirt pocket. I got curious and when he pulled it out once I got a look at it." She swallowed hard. She looked like she really needed a drink. "The paper had J. Bead and a time written on it. ETD and a time. I saw it and didn't think much of it, but." She had our full attention now. Grace pushed her glass of wine in front of her. She took it and downed what was left. "What happened? Jeannie Bead was the woman who died. He touched her just before. And it was the exact time on that piece of paper. The exact minute. He finished taking her soul and stood up. He looked at me."

"And?" Charlotte nudged her.

"I felt something about him before, but it was part of a silly game. At that moment I knew I was looking into the face of Death itself, and, well, I've never been the same since."

"You haven't ever talked to him?"

Sheila looked at Charlotte like she just realized the woman was insane. "Hell no. I think he told us the truth. And I believe Mason is here to collect – at long last just as he has always wanted – Fred's soul. Fred is an idiot. He's not going to become a grim reaper. He's going to die. I don't understand this, well, I understand this much – Mason is here for Fred's soul tonight." She nodded towards the stage where Fred's body was tilted so the head was well down - to encourage his blood to drain no doubt.

Now Reggie started to lean towards worry. But this Millie thing and her Dad came to mind. "Charlotte. Who is Millie and how did she bring you together with my Dad? And, what does she look like?"

They all were startled and turned from the stage to Reggie. The realization that Fred might be really dying up there was starting to take hold and this seemed an odd diversion even to Reggie, but she wanted to know. And the human body takes time to drain. Reggie had donated blood. Fred wasn't going anywhere for a while.

"What do I know about Millie? Well, she's about 5 feet tall, light blonde with blue eyes. She and Daisy lived together in a tiny run-down apartment. I was in your Dad's Shakespeare class and really liked it, and, OK, I liked him. And I could tell he was really bothered by your sister's death. Anyway, I got Millie to sit in on the class. I told her about my plan to give your Dad a framed Shakespeare sonnet to help him get over her death, to help him move on, or so I thought. At first, Millie seemed upset when she first heard it. She got really angry and avoided me, but then we made up and after getting drunk we concocted a plan to invite your Dad to a diner – a diner that Millie suggested - for lunch to give him the sonnet. We did that." She looked over to the stage and sipped some of her wine. Her glass was almost full.

Sheila motioned and Charlotte passed the glass to her. Sheila put away half of it.

"So what happened?" Reggie had a bad feeling about this. The puzzle pieces didn't make sense, but there were more pieces now. "What did the sonnet say, do you remember?"

"Well, yes I do actually. It's still one of my favorites and I teach it, I make a point of teaching it. You've read it, Reggie. You said you liked it, too."

"Which one?"

"It's number 71:

No longer mourn for me when I am dead

Nay, if you read this line, remember not

The hand that writ it; for I love you so

That in your sweet thoughts I'd be forgot

If thinking on me then should make you woe."

Reggie did remember it and she had a notion – some pieces came together in a crazy configuration - that she was not about to explain now here. She would keep it to herself. "And, Charlotte, what was said during this lunch among the three of you?"

Charlotte paused and pulled the memory to the front. "Not much, actually."

"Did Millie say anything to my Dad?"

"She was really quiet, but she shocked me and your Dad when she asked him 'Do you miss your daughter?'"

That sunk in and when it hit bottom some of those pieces fit together in a way that just couldn't be, but…Reggie put her hands to her face. My God. If…If…She must… She looked up again. Now even Sheila was watching her. "What did my Dad say?"

"Actually your Dad and I talked about this. He told me later that diner was the same one he and George used to go to every Sunday morning for breakfast when she was young. Just the two of them. In the diner that day, he told us that he and your sister were very close once. But then something happened and the two grew apart and she didn't want to go there with him anymore. Your Dad thought if he waited she would grow out of it and come back to him, but time ran out…and that's what he told Millie in the diner that day, anyway. Millie suggested that diner. The place was near empty and she led us to that particular booth." A crazy notion maybe occurred to Charlotte, too. But she seemed to reject the idea. "But that's crazy. Anyway, Clancy didn't know Millie at all."

Grace knew something about Reggie's belief that George haunted her for years after she died. How pictures, a TV, were taken from the house, and the homework mysteriously done in George's hand. Grace was watching her now. No one knew the really crazy thing that happened at George's gravesite. She always kept that to herself. She could get locked up for insisting on that one.

Reggie's thoughts were racing ahead putting this all together. What if Fred were only half crazy? Millie knew Mason well. Mason and his friends were reapers, and were the dead kept here to collect souls. Maybe they couldn't ever go home. They had to stay hidden, and, of course, they couldn't walk back home no matter how close it might be.

'Do you miss your daughter?' That would be the question, wouldn't it, for a dead daughter? George wanted to know if they missed her, because she was missing them for sure. She put the question directly to her own Dad and he didn't know he was talking to his dead daughter. She wanted desperately to reach out to them, but some higher power said no. That would explain all those dead telephone calls that so irritated her Mom. She just wanted to hear their voices. But she couldn't respond. So she would break in to the house and take things, her own things. No problem if you grew up in a house and knew every nook and cranny. And that was her coming to the door that day. Maybe trying to connect in any way she could. The dead shall not return to the living, except…on the Day of the Dead – Dia de Los Muertos.

But…she was glad of one thing. George wasn't alone, was she? From what Charlotte had seen. She lived with this Daisy, and knew Mason, and Rube – her stepfather? – and this Roxy. And were they all reapers?

And then she pulled herself together. Brought herself back to this moment with these people. She looked up to see Charlotte and Grace watching her closely, too closely. Sheila was preoccupied with her own thoughts looking up at the stage now. And for Reggie, for the clinching evidence, she looked up to see people starting to rush around the stage. Blood was spurting now. That fool who claimed to be the vampire, the expert on blood, had opened up an artery and instead of a slow bleed, something maybe reversible if Fred were to say, change his mind, Fred was now on a slippery slope that no one here could stop. Fred was going to die. Someone yelled to call 911.

Reggie looked at her watch. It was 9:30 PM. "Let's get out of here. He's dead. And the police will keep us here all night."

No one argued. She wondered what Fred was seeing on the other side. Would he become a reaper? She doubted it.

Well away from the club, Fred was discussing this unexpected turn of events with Mason and Daisy. Mason was doing most of the talking now. Daisy was looking at her watch. It was almost 10:00 PM and this Fred was a bit of a lunatic. First he was disappointed that he wasn't going to be a vampire. They explained that there's no such thing. His friend lied to him. Daisy suspected his brain was a bit fried long before he died. Now that the vampire option wasn't going to happen, he wanted to be a grim reaper. Mason was going in circles on this.

"Look, my friend, I never told you that when you died you would be a grim reaper. I told you I was a reaper."

"Mason, I'm ready." He looked up to the starless sky and raised his arms. "I volunteer for the job."

"Look, man, it does not work that way. You're lucky. You get to pass over into your lights."

"I don't see any lights."

"Well, if you stop bloody going on about being a grim reaper then you'll see the bloody lights."

"I don't want lights. I want to be a reaper, like you, Mason."

"I know you do. But…Daisy…Daisy…the word thing."

Daisy came back over. She had enough of this shit for brains fool and wanted to go home and go to bed. And before that could happen she had a few questions. It was already clear that Mason had said way too much back at that concert. He told this Fred and that Sheila that he was a grim reaper. Somehow they all kept it more or less to themselves. Probably in this guy's case no one took him seriously, but the important thing now was to know what he told them at the table. When Fred came over and started oversharing with Mason and her, she knew they had a problem and when he then went over to talk to Charlotte's table, she realized that he had to be stopped. She wasn't sure how much might have escaped. And it didn't help that Georgia's little sister was there. Daisy did not like that coincidence at all. Not at all. Rube would want to know about that. "Fred."

He turned to her smiling. "Yes, Daisy."

He was so eager. "Tonight over at Sheila's table, you saw how afraid Sheila was of me, didn't you?"

"She's always been afraid of Mason being a grim reaper, and she thought you might be one, too."

"You talked about reapers – Mason and me – in front of those other three women?"

He looked confused. "Was that bad?"

"So you did, didn't you?"

"Yes."

"And what did they say?"

"I don't know, because you came over." Fred looked back up towards the sky and closed his eyes.

OK, enough of this shit. "Fred."

Fred stopped what passed for meditation for him and looked at Daisy. "Mason and I, well, we haven't explained the whole situation to you. You keep talking about vampires and reapers and whatever…"

"Daisy, I want to be a grim reaper, like you and Mason. I'm OK with it."

"Sweetie, I know you are and that's wonderful, but just listen, OK?"

Mason was listening too. Good. "OK, Sweetie, this is the way it is. Our job is to help you get to where you should go and there are two choices." She held two fingers up. Can't be too obvious. "You realize you killed yourself in there, right?"

"What?"

"Fred, you killed yourself in there. That's called a mortal sin. That's not a great way to finish up your stay here. It tips the scales in the wrong direction. Are you following me?" Georgia taught her this little tool to help them get going. Mason was probably remembering that he killed himself too, but didn't say anything.

Daisy had Fred's attention. "So what we need you to understand is that the lights option isn't a sure thing. You committed a mortal sin and the reason no lights have appeared for you is probably that the higher authority, our boss, is considering the…the other choice, if you know what I mean."

"No. What other choice?"

Jesus Christ this one was as dense as a rock. "Perdition."

"Perdition?"

How did this guy live as long as he did? "Fred." She leaned a bit closer. Mason leaned even closer in too. The three formed a tight huddle. She said just above a whisper, "I'm talking about the really bad place. You know. Hell."

He looked surprised. "There really is a Hell?"

"I can tell you that really bad evil types don't get the lights. Instead this dark thing swallows them up. And maybe the reason you don't see lights is that you're on the edge. You could go either way. Got it?"

"OK. And now what? Maybe...because I'm offering myself up to become a grim reaper…that's what's keeping me from going down the dark choice?"

That was it. Her patience was gone. "Mason. Take Fred's arm. We are going to do a direct intervention to make sure this young man goes to the right place."

Mason looked a bit in doubt, but followed Daisy's lead. He took one arm. Daisy took the other. Fred checked either side and basically was confused no matter what was said or done. How could he know? Daisy exerted a calming effect over Fred's soul. When he didn't respond, she briefly considered buzzing the guy into unconsciousness, or what passes for that among ghosts, until she thought of how Rube would react when he found out, so she tried a little numbing. He started to look lightheaded and perhaps unsteady on his feet, which is not how a ghost should look. They don't sleep, but soon enough his lights appeared. She looked over at Mason and nodded toward them. They guided Fred over next to his lights and let him go. The lights didn't have any particular meaningful shape or image, which she figured reflected his state of mind likely his normal state of mind. He stood there and could see them, but hesitated.

"Fred. Quick. Don't let them get away." Then Daisy shoved him hard. And in he fell, and they and he disappeared.

"All is well that ends well, or something like that."

Mason started moving towards the car. "I'm hungry."

"I'm really tired, Mason, and I think we should go home and to bed. We can eat later." When he looked her way, she smiled. He could be so simple in his needs. "OK. Let's get something to eat, and then we'll go home. You know we have the house to ourselves."

"I know."

"You can take a shower."

"Daisy, I took a shower this morning."

"I'll take one too. George will be out all night."

Charlotte and the little band had left the parking lot as an ambulance pulled in followed by a police patrol unit. That was close. They drove to Charlotte's house. She parked in the guest area in front. With Charlotte leading the way, Grace and Reggie, one on each side, guided Sheila through the front door and into a cozy sitting room where they plopped her onto a soft easy chair. Charlotte prepared some coffee for everyone and brought it back to the low table in the middle of several like chairs. They gathered around the table pulling closer in.

They settled in taking in a little coffee and letting the club happenings sink in. No one was eager to begin. Maybe they needed Sheila to initiate the talk, but she was just sipping the coffee. She closed her eyes and grimaced. Then she opened back up and looked around. Reggie guessed she was considering about whether she could turn the coffee Irish. Grace, put her cup down, and she could see, would start things off.

Grace leaned in close to Sheila. Sheila was tired, and had a little more to drink than she was used to. "Sheila, you and Fred said that two people died, but you only saw Mason touch the Bead woman, right?"

"That's true. I didn't see anyone go near the singer till after he was very dead."

"And Mason didn't actually find this Bead woman until she was shot?"

"Yes. That true. He was sitting with us and we were drinking a lot. He looked at his watch and got agitated. Told us we were foolish for believing him about being a reaper. He got up to leave. Fred stopped him from leaving saying it was him who was to die. I remember Mason scoffing at him asking Fred what his real name was. Mason said no it's not you. And then he took off. I remember him telling Fred that he shouldn't go looking for Death, because Death will find him soon enough." No one interrupted her. She seemed relieved to be able to talk about this finally.

Grace pondered this. "It seems to me that there was another reaper there somewhere at the concert that Fred and Sheila never met. Let's call him 'Reaper X' and he got to the singer before he went on stage."

Charlotte jumped in with an amused look on her face. This was entertainment, a game, for her. "Maybe it was Daisy, or Rube, or could it have been Millie?"

Sheila was not fearful anymore. Even though Fred was dead, she wasn't alone. "I don't remember seeing Daisy anywhere around. Of course there were a lot of people, and we did not go back stage. Fred was upset about not getting to meet the singer one on one, but Goth…and he was…"

Charlotte took charge. It was just getting too late perhaps. Reggie herself suspected that Sheila had a wacky side to her that she kept hidden. But then again maybe she and Sheila weren't so unalike. They both had experiences and beliefs not accepted by people they knew and they kept it to themselves. She was a little more fortunate to have Grace. Charlotte seemed to have come to her own conclusions and this was now like a classroom and the bell was close. "OK. Come on. Sheila, is it possible that there is a simpler explanation?"

Sheila was feeling the effects of her attempts to stay calm and didn't immediately grasp the change within Charlotte.

"Maybe you and Fred had a lot to drink, and, yes, these various people died, but they were just coincidences. Anybody who sat feet from of a brutal murder like you both did would be traumatized. Your brain came up with some way to explain it. I've talked to Mason several times and he's pretty normal, pretty normally horny, and I got to know Millie well, too, and all of them including Daisy seemed like living breathing people. Do you really believe that Mason is dead and is a grim reaper collecting souls? Aren't reporters supposed to be more skeptical than that?"

Sheila looked betrayed. "You don't believe me."

Charlotte entered her full professor mode and said, "When I was younger my sister and I went to a magic show. The magician turned a piece of lead into gold. It was impressive. My sister was convinced he really did it. I told her it was a trick. She asked me how it was done. I didn't know, but we all have to choose our explanations from a hierarchy of probabilities."

Reggie knew where she was going, but she could see Sheila was not following this.

"So was it more likely that he did some sort of trick, or that he really could turn lead into gold? I asked her if he really could do something like that why would he be doing magic shows for a pittance instead of retiring with his gold to his yacht somewhere in the Caribbean.

"So, come on, do you think it likely that those two people we saw, Mason and Daisy, used to be dead bodies and were raised from the dead? OK, I'm sorry to bring this up Reggie, but please."

Reggie was curious. "It's OK."

"Clancy had a rough time after George died, a really rough time of it. They asked him to go to the morgue and look at what was left of her body, to confirm her identity. He was traumatized at having to look at just her head. That it was her he had no doubt. My point is that there are so many problems with this back-from-the-dead reaper thing I don't know where to begin. The body was in pieces. They don't look alike anyway. Because I'm absolutely sure that Clancy would have recognized Millie if she were his dead daughter." She paused to let her logic and reasoning sink it. "Really, let's all agree to keep this among ourselves, these reaper conjectures." Charlotte looked at each in turn. "Let me put it this way. Sheila, you have a great reputation as tough reporter always getting the impossible leads. You, two, want to get into the police academy next year. And I want to become a full professor with tenure."

They heard the front door open and close.

Charlotte called out, "We're in here, Trip."

Trip, entered. "Hi Honey, sorry about being so late. Ah, Sheila. Something weird happened over at that old Goth club in the warehouse district. I heard it on the scanner."

Charlotte answered, "We know. We were there."

"What were you doing there? Anyway, Sheila, can you write something up for tomorrow?" Trip was already walking away.

Charlotte looked over to Sheila. "I'll help you on this one." And then a bit louder she said, "She's got it, Honey. I'll be taking her home."

Grace and Reggie excused themselves and went out to Grace's car. Grace drove out and onto the road. "What do you think? Is Mason a reaper collecting souls, or are Fred and Sheila, or at least Sheila, ready for the funny farm?"

Reggie thought a bit. "I don't reject what they're saying out of hand. After all, Fred is dead. And…"

Grace kept focused on the road. "You didn't want to say anything in front of those two?"

Reggie said, "Are you kidding? I don't know Sheila, and she seems a bit off to me. And Charlotte, well you heard her. She can't wrap her mind around facts that don't fit with her mind's view of how the world works so her mind rationalized around them, makes square pegs fit in round holes because it's more comfortable that way. And anyway, she doesn't have all the pieces."

"What do you mean? You have something you never told me, don't you? I knew when you looked like you were falling down some black hole back at the club."

Reggie had already told a lot to Grace about the rough time after George's death, all the unexplained happenings, and she didn't laugh or make fun of her. She said there were a lot of odd things that happened in her family, too. Anyway, Reggie decided to put her cards on the table so to speak. "There is something I never mentioned to you, Grace." She looked at Grace a little sheepishly and went on. "Some 10 years ago I and my Mom slept on George's grave overnight, Halloween night. At dawn, the dawn of the Day of the Dead, I felt someone over me pulling my blanket and I woke up to see George just walking away. She had pulled my blanket up over me. I put my glasses on. Without saying anything she walked off a bit and turned back to look at me. I got a good look at her face, she was looking back at me into the rising sun, and it was George. She smiled at me and then just walked away. And my Mom slept through the whole thing."

Grace asked the obvious, "Maybe you were dreaming?"

"I know I wasn't. We didn't bring any candy to the gravesite. George left a handful of little wrapped candies right next to my glasses. When she leaned over to put them there she also pulled the blanket up and I felt it. And I watched her walk away through the graveyard until she went out through the gate and was gone. I know I wasn't asleep. I woke my Mom up and we left ourselves. I never told her or anyone about it, but now…"

"She looked like George?"

"Exactly like George. You know they say on the Day of the Dead they come back."

Grace put some of her own cards on the table. "Well, I've got a few memories of something, too. When I was young I lived with my Great Grandmother Rosie for a few years, before she got so old they sent her to live in a home. She had a reputation in the family for being a little odd, for being a little to close to the supernatural. Everyone seemed to live around it, to pretend certain things weren't said or didn't happen. I didn't care. I needed a home when my Dad left, and my Mom sent me to stay with her for a few years. I didn't care if she was a little crazy."

"I had a grandmother like that, too," Reggie said.

"Well, she told me when she was a little girl back east her Papa did something bad and when he died leaving her and her mom to fend for themselves, he came back and was walking among the living."

"Did she see him?"

"She said she did, but then her Mom got angry, angry and scared, and sent him away."

"And how does that help us now?"

"I'm not sure. But her Papa's name was Rube."

"That was a long time ago. You think he's been walking around this long? And he's the Rube I met at the school?"

"I don't know. We really don't know much, do we? And what we know doesn't make sense. One reason this comes to mind now, is that she told me that she wanted me to come visit her grave at dawn on the Day of the Dead. She said she was to be buried next to her mother, and her name on the stone was to be her maiden name."

"Which was?"

"She married a man named Schnee, but her maiden name was Sofer, and of course her Papa was Rube Sofer. She said she knew her Papa would come and she wanted to make it easy for him to find her."

"So she made a date to meet you at her grave on the Day of the Dead? Did you ever go?"

"No. No. She told me, she was very clear about this, her Papa would come visit her grave, not that she would come back. And no I never went. I didn't take it seriously. I told you that as much as I loved her, I thought all these stories were a bit crazy."

"What else did she say?"

"Well I asked her how she knew these things. She said that not long after her Mom chased her Papa away, that a Chinese man took her from the back yard where she was playing and took her off to another house where a lot of people were gathered in the backyard including her Papa. She talked with him and then a woman with white hair and eyes showed up and they put her in the house." It had been more than 10 years since she last heard this story, but she had heard it so many times. "There was a lot of commotion outside and the lady with white hair and eyes…"

Reggie broke in. "White eyes, what does that mean?"

"She said this lady had white eyes that looked right through you. Where my eyes are brown this woman's eyes were white like snow. Anyway after all the commotion this lady walked her home. And on the way they talked and she mentioned to the lady about her eyes and she stopped and looked at her a long time. And she asked. "You can see that my eyes are white?" and when she said yes…"

"I'm sorry, but how old was she at this time?"

Grace had to think about it. "She was very young, about five or six, I believe. Anyway, the lady, after thinking a long time told her that someday she would see her Papa again, and that she should tell the granddaughter that lives with her in her old age to come visit her grave at dawn on the Day of the Dead because she will find her Papa waiting there. And now, I was only about 11 or 12 when she would tell me this. She said this story was only for me to know because I was the girl the lady promised would come live with her and I was special. I always thought it was a fairy tale."

Reggie laughed. "Grace I always knew you were special."

Grace smiled too, but got serious and said, "I think we have a plan."

Reggie was already on the same page. "We have dates at dawn of the upcoming Day of the Dead."

They were both quiet looking straight ahead for almost a minute. Reggie said, "I tried a couple of times going back at dawn of that day, to she if she would come back, and I would leave a picture of us together on her tombstone"

"And what happened?"

"Well, when I would check later the picture would always be gone, but…I never did see her again. It never occurred to me, and I don't know why it didn't, that maybe she didn't want to meet me or be seen by me. Maybe that one time I saw her, she only came close because she thought I, we, were asleep. If these reapers are around and hiding in plain sight, they can't reveal themselves and certainly my sister couldn't reveal herself or I think, I know she would have."

"That diner thing that went down between Millie and your Dad…that made my hair stand up."

"If she could come back to us she would have a long time ago, so she can't, and for some reason she looks different out in the world, but she looked like herself on the day in the graveyard. Maybe there's something supernatural going on surrounding their graves and that Day of the Dead. But…to think how alone she must have been and if it were her how she must have felt to sit down with her own Dad and not be able to tell him who she really was…that…she must have been desperate…and so alone."

Grace pulled up at Reggie's house. "Let's keep this to ourselves, OK? This kind of thinking doesn't recommend us for acceptance into the police force."

"Just the two of us. Shall we drive together tomorrow to the Happy Time interviews?"

"Absolutely. How about breakfast at the Waffle Haus?"

"Actually, Grace, the food's not that bad, but we don't have time tomorrow. We can always try that some weekend."

Rosie felt safe walking home with the lady with white hair. She held her hand as they walked and she occasionally would say something to her. She could tell they were going home and even though the sun was close to setting they would be home before it got dark. She said her name was Ice, which was a very funny name. She had never heard that before.

Rosie was curious and couldn't help herself. "Why is your hair so white? Is that why your name is Ice?

The lady stopped and looked down at her. Then she squatted so she could look into Rosie's eyes and asked, "You see my hair is white?"

"Yes, like snow, and so are your eyes."

She looked at Rosie a long time before saying, "Rosie, listen carefully, OK? Don't forget what I'm going to tell you and don't tell it to anyone else, OK?"

Rosie agreed.

"You are going to live a long life. You will grow up and get married, and have many children. And some day towards the end of your life one of your…granddaughters will come to live with you."

"Will I be happy?"

"What will be will be. Yes, you will have many happy times. But there will be sad times, too."

"What will my granddaughter be called?"

"Rosie, I don't know that. But you tell her about me and what I'm telling you." Ice held on to each arm and looked Rosie steady in her eyes. "Rosie, look at my hair. Look at my eyes. They are very different, aren't they? You will never see anything like them again."

"Do you mean, Ice, that I will never see you again?"

"No, I don't believe you will."

She paused looking into her eyes and then said, "Never forget what I'm telling you. You will never forget me, and you will not be able to forget what I'm telling you now. Someday after a long life, you will die and pass on into your lights. You will be buried next to your mother in a cemetery near here. It's OK. She won't die for a long time and neither will you. When your little girl comes you will know her. Tell her this story many many times. She will be young and you have to help her to remember. She is to come to visit your grave at dawn on the Day of the Dead."

"Ice"

"Yes, Rosie."

"Why is this important?"

"Little one, I don't know."

"Will I see my Papa, again?"

Ice didn't say anything for a long time, but finally she spoke, "Yes, Rosie, you will. He will come to you at your end and you will be able to see him then as you did today. And, he will visit your grave after you die at dawn on the Day of the Dead."

"So that little girl will meet him there?"

"I believe they will meet, yes."

With that Ice stood up and they walked together, Ice holding her hand. They arrived at her house. Ice took Rosie up to the door and knocked. Her Mama answered the door and at sight of her took her into her arms. "Rosie, where have you been? A neighbor said they saw you walk off with a strange man."

"She's OK, Mrs. Sofer. I found her nearby and she knew the way home." With that Ice walked away.

Inside her Mama and Aunt Ruth were talking and Rosie heard her Mama describe Ice to her as a tall woman with long straight black hair and brown eyes. She decided not to say anything – for now.


	29. Chapter 29 Reggie and Grace at Happy Tim

**29 Reggie and Grace at Happy Time**

The next morning Reggie rode with Grace to Happy Time for their screening interviews. This was weird because this was the very same temp agency her sister worked at some 11 years before for her first and last workday. They walked up to the receptionist to check in. She noticed her name. That she did not expect. This woman has been here how long?

"Are you Georgia Lass's sister?"

"Yes, I am. Did you know her?"

"No."

"OK. When will Ms. Herbig be seeing us?"

"Soon. You can wait right there."

"Right there?"

"Right there."

"Thank you."

"Your welcome."

The receptionist, Crystal was her name, watched everything they did. The waiting chairs were directly in her line of sight and she seemed never to take her eyes off them, and her face was frozen in one form, stone cold.

As the minutes dragged, she pulled out her handcuffs. Reggie liked to practice escaping handcuffs with anything handy that was small and slender enough to fit in the lock. She and Grace took turns working the lock mechanism under Crystal's stare. The woman didn't seem to have anything else to do. Both could unlock it on a first try even when locked from behind.

"Good morning, ladies."

They jumped and Reggie scrambled to put the cuffs away and they stood up. Reggie said, "Good morning."

Ms. Herbig said, "Let's see. You're Grace Hernandez. And you're Reggie Lass." She got that look on her face.

Reggie put it out there. Save small talk. "Yes, I'm her sister."

Ms. Herbig looked her over. Seemed satisfied and gave them a big smile. "How's your mother doing? I placed her several years back. Joy Lass I believe. At a law firm."

"She's fine. We appreciate your help."

"Well let's go back to my office and we'll get started."

They followed her to a large enclosed cubicle where she motioned for them to take seats. Reggie knew there was never any doubt about their getting through their screening tests and interviews here at Happy Time. Charlotte already recommended them both. And even the next level, the interview with her husband, Trip, at the club was not in doubt, although they knew they had to take it seriously. Charlotte had explained and this Ms. Herbig confirmed that the Montgomery Club was opening up a few jobs to more senior students at the university - to those who needed the work and could benefit from the exposure. Mr. Hesburgh volunteered to screen candidates himself. She had met him before, but never talked one on one. Reggie was up first, an interview later that morning with Trip.

She arrived well before the appointed time. This was the Montgomery Club and, as she expected, looked like the place was awash in money. Other than Charlotte she didn't know anyone who frequented the place and a job here would help her last year school finances and she hoped assure her getting into the police academy.

She was ushered into an office that looked used and it seemed to be his office and not just borrowed for the interviews. There were papers in stacks on the desk and real file cabinets. She expected this to be a conference room interview. She guessed he had more than one office, it was unlikely he worked full time from this Club. Maybe he volunteered here a lot. Trip was dressed casually, but looked serious. She knew from Charlotte and her brief encounters before that he in fact worked and often worked late. He didn't just sit on his money; he worked hard to grow it. And, the newspaper was a small part of what kept him busy.

"Hi. Reggie. Reggie Lass, please sit down." He glanced through the papers put together by Deloris over at Happy Time. She got the impression that he had already gone through them and was prepared. "Deloris has a lot of good things to say about you."

Reggie smiled, but that was not a question.

"By the way…are you Georgia Lass's sister?"

The verb tense seemed odd and she went along with it. "Yes I am. Do you know her?"

"I did. I…dated her for a short time. Once actually. I believe she mentioned you, too, but she didn't name you. How is she?"

OK, the verb tense collision moment of truth is here. "She died."

Trip's face betrayed a real ignorance of that fact. "When. I didn't know. Was it recent?"

"She died…a few years ago." This was technically true.

"I'm sorry to hear that and I'm sorry for your loss." Trip took on a melancholy air that she judged genuine and that was interesting. That must have been some date. "If you don't mind my asking, Mr. Hesburgh, when did you…meet her?"

He paused before answering. He knew she was friends with his wife, but she guessed this all happened some time well before he met Charlotte. She doubted that Charlotte had said much about Reggie and he probably never mentioned George and this date. There would be no reason. "Really I can't forget. It was a sad time for me. It was when my Dad died in an accident here at the Club. That same day I met Georgia inside the Card Room the one you passed by to get back here. We got to know each other over a few drinks. She was quite remarkable. Very funny and smart. But just outside next to the golf course, right after I introduced her to my Dad, he was killed in a freak accident."

His face showed he didn't care for bringing that memory up. She said, "I'm sorry to hear that." She waited a bit. "Did you ever see her again?"

He paused again. Now her instincts were kicking into overdrive. She could read on his face, not guilt, but a simple weighing of how much to tell. Something more happened and he wasn't sure how far to go given her known connection to his wife. She projected her best and most trusting demeanor. He made a decision and said, "Yes. She came to the reception for my Dad's funeral here at the Club." Now he got an amused look on his face. "She brought a scruffy looking guy with her. Totally ill dressed for this place. She called him 'her insurance' whatever that meant."

Reggie smiled knowingly. "That would have been Mason."

"Yes. It was." He smiled at the memory now. "Do you know him?"

"Not well, but I know who is."

"Well, he's a lot more clever than he looks. He is, or was, like her big brother."

Reggie had learned a long time ago that she could hear more by not talking. When Trip hesitated again she prompted him and asked, "How so?"

Again Trip considered, but he was warming to her, she could tell. "We had a little dust up with my sister, Ashley. Actually, she was not happy with me, and she took it out on your sister. And George left early. Mason came up to me after she left and passed to me one of her earrings, a very expensive earring. He said that she must have dropped it, and that I should return it to her."

Reggie smiled. Genuinely interested. "What? She didn't lose it?"

"No, not at all. Mason had both in his pocket. She told me later she had given both back to him before she left the reception. That devious…"

"So did you?"

"Return it? Yes, I did. I went to her house and gave it back to her in person." And then he stopped.

Reggie's mind was working ahead and could guess how this ended. She decided not to push it further. There was nothing to be gained in manipulating a confession on something like that.

"When did this happen?" Reggie asked with a smile.

"I can't forget. It was late summer of 2004 when my Dad died."

George died in June of 2003, but Reggie was careful to show nothing of that on her face. "And you didn't see her after that?"

"No. I didn't. So, Reggie. If you want this job here, it's yours, but…but I may have something more lucrative for you to consider." He picked up a folder from the left side of his desk.

Thank you George. "Sure. I'm open."

"OK, well. It's a bit different. I'm supposed to recommend to my sister and her husband, she married a Thomas Ferguson, one person to do a special job for them. It's probably no more than 10 or 15 hours a week, depending, and mostly on weekends."

Reggie listened. Again there was no question and she had no idea what this job could be.

"They have a small boy, Tommy, my nephew, and they need someone that they can trust, that we can trust, to take care of him and the house while they're out, and sometimes while they're in."

"It's sounds like a babysitting job."

"Well, it's more a combination of the boy and the house, and it's a big house. They have a lot of money and my sister is particular about who she trusts. There are a few servants, but they want both a companion for him and someone to act in their place while they're out." He could see the reluctance on her face. "They're paying $100 dollars an hour, and, whatever faults my sister may have, she'll not be stingy in counting the hours. I'll make sure of that. And they pay in cash."

Reggie could count. "Done."

"Great I'll set up the meeting with them. You'll be the only one I'm sending over. Can I contact you at this number with the time and address?"

"Yes, that'll work fine." Reggie got up to leave. They shook hands. As she got to the door, she thought of one more question, and turned back. He looked up. "Mr. Hesburgh…"

"Reggie, please call me Trip."

"Do you happen to have that address Mason gave you for my sister?"

He thought about that. "I think I do. I never throw away…" He looked into his database. "Yes, here it is." He wrote it down on a postit and handed it to her.

"Thanks." Reggie left smiling. The address was not all that far from her home. She thought about that. She stopped on the way through the drawing room and saw nothing unusual. She didn't know what she expected. But after a long hiatus when all signs from her sister were gone, the trail back toward her sister was warming up. This was almost too easy.


	30. Chapter 30 Maria Arrives

**30 Maria Arrives**

George looked around. Roxy was not at the Waffle Haus. Unsurprising. But Rube wasn't either. That was surprising. She, Mason, and Daisy were eating their breakfast and wondering where Rube was off to. It was really unlike him. They finished, got coffee refills and George checked her watch for the fourth time in the last 10 minutes. Just as she pulled her phone out, Rube walked through the door, but he wasn't alone. Kiffany saw them come in and gave a big cheerful good morning smile.

"Rube, got a new one?"

"Indeed we do, Kiffany. Give her anything she wants and it's on me."

Rube approached the booth followed closely by a young woman who looked like she would rather be most anywhere else. George's heart went out to her.

"Can you guys make room for Maria?"

Mason got up and offered his seat to the most recent draftee. Maria paused to look at them and the situation and then surrendered to the inevitable and took Mason's now vacant side of the booth with Rube coming in behind her. Mason brought a chair over and took the end.

"This is Maria Estrada. She will replace Roxy, who will become a new boss centered at the downtown police station. Please." Rube looked to Daisy.

"Hi, I'm Daisy, Daisy Adair." Daisy reached over and offered her hand and Maria took it. Maria offered a weak smile in return.

"Hi, I'm George Lass." George gave her a big smile and followed Daisy's lead by offering her hand also.

"I'm Mason." Mason did not offer his hand, but he gave her a welcoming smile too.

"Maria here died in Los Angeles just a little over a week ago. Hit and run." Kiffany walked over and Rube introduced her, too. "And this is Kiffany. Kiffany, for the time being just put Maria on my tab. Maria, go ahead and order whatever you'd like."

George looked offended. "How come you never put me on your tab, Rube? You left me pretty much to fend for myself."

Rube smiled at George. "This is her first day in town. She not only just died, but she's new here. Kiffany, why don't you leave the menu, and she'll order when she's ready?"

Maria picked up the menu and started going through it. George pegged her as leaning toward introverted. When she didn't look up for more than a minute, she changed that assessment to a lot introverted.

Rube looked across and at Mason. "Volunteers to show her around?"

George pointed out the obvious. "Rube, confirm our reaps and we'll take it from there."

"Peanut, you're absolutely right." He pulled out his book.

Maria ordered a lemonade to start and oatmeal and Rube his coffee and his usual egg breakfast with the extra crispy bacon.

After Rube reviewed the reap schedule it became clear who would be available when. Mason and George were open for the morning and Daisy this afternoon.

"I'll be open after three this afternoon," Daisy added to clarify.

Rube frowned. "Why after three?"

"I'm dropping by to visit someone at the hospital, Rube."

"Mary?"

"Yes. Is that a problem?"

"I don't know, is it?"

"Rube, why don't you come visit her? She would love to meet you." Daisy offered.

Rube didn't answer. He had his constipated look. This wasn't over. George could guess he was worried what she might be telling Mary. He did not seem to appreciate that Mary would love to meet him at all. He turned to Maria who was finishing her lemonade. "Tomorrow we'll go by the DMV and get a new identity fixed up."

Before he left Maria with her and Mason he hit them with something George was prepared for. "And tonight…"

"Yes Rube we'll take care of her." Unlike what he did to her.

George and Mason walked her around. Mason chatted her up. Now that Daisy had gotten Mason off the booze and drugs, more or less, he was quite the people person. And Daisy made sure he showered often. They got an ice cream, and then the video store was next. Mason introduced Maria to the double image, but she already knew about that. Reapers can see the ghost side of things so when they look at each other they see the original soul of the reaper. But when the living see a reaper they see only what's visible in the living world. They get a new made up image.

But then Mason said, "There's a reaper legend that on Halloween and the Day of the Dead reapers look as they were when alive to those who knew them."

When Mason mentioned the reaper legend George felt an alarm bell go off inside. But it was out and over before she could stop him. This little piece of news was better left unsaid at this stage of Maria's transition to her new undead state of mind.

Maria perked up and looked curious. "Dia de Los Muertos, yes that's the Day of the Dead. You mean the living can see us as we were, that's real?"

"Yes. And it's not a legend. An old man who knew Daisy when she was alive back in the 1930's recognized her. He saw her in the Waffle Haus and even remembered her name. But it works only for those few hours and then they only see your usual appearance."

"Do we have to go to our gravesite?"

Mason could see George wasn't happy with this line of talk, but he wasn't sure why and in too deep anyway. "No it's anywhere. The old man saw Daisy in the Waffle Haus."

They headed for the park.

Maria looked to her and said, "Rube mentioned, George, that you died around here."

Mason said, "She died..."

"Mason. I'm right here. Yes, Maria, I did."

"Did you ever get recognized by any of your family?"

George did not want to lie to her. Eventually her goings on were going to come out. It was hard to keep secrets, well hers anyway. "Maria, I was so lonely at first, but you need to realize that you can't go back. I know it's hard. Believe me. I was in your shoes just…a few years ago. We'll take care of you and things will get better. Really."

She seemed to consider this. In any case she dropped the line of talk, which made George's alarm bells stop ringing. George asked, "Maria, do you need anything? Like some clothes or whatever."

She was so polite. George could see she had needs, but her mind was still working under old rules like she was a guest and not living with relatives. George wanted to get her as quickly as possible to being comfortable with them. She wanted to tell that we'll grow on you, don't worry, but… "You won't likely get any reaps for at least a few more days, and believe me Daisy knows how to shop for clothes." She looked to Mason.

Mason saw his cue and jumped in. "Yes. Maria. Believe her. Daisy knows how to shop for clothes, shoes, whatever."

When night came they had had a full day and were all exhausted. Daisy had planned to put Maria on the couch, but George intervened. She didn't want her to be alone, so she pulled out a cot they had in the garage and put her in her room.

That night when the floorboards creaked above signaling Daisy's move to Mason's room she giggled at Maria's questioning look. "That's Daisy."

"Where's she going?"

George pointed over to one end of the ceiling where the sound had originated. "That's Daisy's room over there." Then she pointed to the other end. "And that's Mason's room over that way. Every night you'll hear her move. Just keep it to yourself. They've got a…" George wasn't sure how to describe it.

"I understand."

"Yeah, don't ever get any ideas regarding Mason. Daisy will kill you. She marked that territory a long time ago."

She laughed and George noted it was the first really good laugh she'd heard all day from her. "George, aren't we dead already?"

"We still feel pain, Maria." And there are a lot of kinds of pain to feel. With that thought and the sounds coming from above she drifted off.


End file.
